


The Ruler & The Killer

by rainsoakedshoes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Human, Character Death, Clubbing, Dancing, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski UST, Drug Use, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault of a Minor, M/M, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Minor Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, Mob Boss!Derek, Murder, Organized Crime, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Derek Hale/Jordan Parrish, Past Jennifer Blake/Derek Hale, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, brief mentions of blow jobs, drug overdose, hitman!Stiles, minor Stiles Stilinski/Jordan Parrish, no sex here kiddos sorry, rated M for violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2018-09-08 11:26:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8842906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainsoakedshoes/pseuds/rainsoakedshoes
Summary: Stiles Stilinski AKA Red is a ruthless assassin known for his accuracy and efficiency. All of the crime families of Beacon Hills want his services, but Stiles is very careful with how he conducts business. Stiles has three rules: 1)	Money upfront2)	Leave no witnesses3)	No affiliation with any one crime familyThen Derek Hale organises a meeting with the elusive Red, gives him an interesting offer, and suddenly Stiles is rethinking his rules.





	1. A Job Offer

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends after taking a decent break from Teen Wolf related fic I am back again with what will be my longest fic to date. 
> 
> Please take care and read the tags, I will put any major content warnings in the notes of each chapter since some chapters will be more violent than others. If I've forgotten a tag, or there is something you think I need to tag, let me know and I'll update it. 
> 
> This was originally meant to be a fic for a Big Bang forever ago, but I never ended up finding an artist to collab with, so it kind of fell to the wayside.
> 
>  
> 
> **Content Warnings for this chapter: brief mentions of injuries, implied torture**

A pained cry echoes in the dark room, the harsh sound bouncing off the low ceiling and cold concrete walls. A man slumps forward in his chair. His hand curls into a fist reflexively, wrenching a cry of pain from his throat as his broken finger moves.

“Who performed the hit on Kali?” Cora asks, drawing out the words as she’s forced to repeat the question.  

“I don’t know! I don’t know! I swear!” Tears leak from his eyes and run down the man’s face. Salt water mixing with the blood dripping down his cheek from a gash on his cheekbone, staining his face pink. He had received a rather vicious beating prior to the interrogation, and from the way he shifts with pained gasps it’s a safe bet that he has internal injuries as well.

“You’ve seen the dirt we’ve dug up on you. We can destroy your whole life,” Cora kneels down so she can look the man in the eye. “You know where every dime of the Calavera’s money goes, we know they ordered the hit. What we don’t know is who they hired. So I’ll ask again: who performed the hit on Kali?”

The man shakes his head, begging through his tears. “They’ll kill me if I tell you.”

“Boyd, can you show Mr Atherton the video we have?” Cora asks. 

The large man who has been leaning against the door turns to the bench that runs the length of the wall. He picks up and opens a laptop. With the press of a button a video starts to play. It’s an amature video, taken on a mobile phone. The camera swings around, focusing on the sleeping face of an underage teenage girl. 

“How did you get that?”

“Doesn’t matter how,” Cora tells him. “What matters is we have it. Now are you more scared of the Calavera’s or what will happen if this video is made public?” 

There’s a paus in which the man weighs his options. 

“Okay, okay.” The man finally relents with a sigh.  “I’ll tell you what I know.”

*

Boyd knocks on the door of Derek’s office, waiting for permission to enter before he lets himself in.  

“We got a name and a way to contact him,” Boyd tells the older man without any preamble.

“What’s the name?” Derek asks, looking up from his laptop. Atherton had caved faster than he had anticipated. He had expected better from a man in the Calavera’s employment. 

“Red.”

Derek closes his laptop and narrows his eyes at Boyd. “You’re sure?”

Boyd nods, only the slightest hint of annoyance in his expression. He sits in one of the high backed leather chairs in front of Derek’s desk.  

“Our guest could have given us the name of any contract killer who runs in our circles, but he gave us Red,” Boyd explains. “There’s no way that he would risk lying about Red if he couldn’t back it up, not with the dirt we have on him. He’s scared of the Calavera’s, but he’s terrified of prison.”

“Make contact,” Derek decides. “I’ll do the meet personally.”

Boyd raises an eyebrow at Derek’s choice to be involved, but doesn’t question it. “I’ll set it up,” he says.  

Derek opens his laptop again and Boyd takes his cue to leave.

*

The moment Stiles sees the encrypted email he’s sure someone from the Calavera camp has talked. Stiles is careful; he gives each client a specific code to use so he would know if there were any leaks. He had only just completed a job for the Calavera’s, who had agreed not to contact him for another job for at least a month. Whoever sent the coded message was requesting to meet the following Wednesday with Red, or one of Red’s representatives.

Stiles considers the message for a while. He sits with the message open on his laptop, rereading the request over and over, studying the syntax. There’s no indication of who it could be from. Stiles doesn’t recognise the style of writing, which means it’s not from someone he’s corresponded with before. He’s pissed that someone from the Calavera’s has let others know how to contact him; as far as most people are concerned Red is in Europe and unavailable for the foreseeable future. However Stiles is also very interested in knowing who could get that information out of the Calavera’s. He also wants to know who in the city is audacious enough to try and meet in person with Red; everyone who is aware of Red’s reputation knows Red doesn’t do meet and greets, usually everything is done electronically.

Ultimately Stiles decides to go to the public meeting; if only to see who shows up.

*

Stiles arrives an hour early to the diner mentioned in the message.  _ Luna’s  _ is a 24 hour diner owned by the Hale family. Stiles isn’t sure if that is a coincidence or not. It would be a bold move for members of another family to meet him on Hale territory. Although Luna’s is a very popular place, and there is always a chance the message came from a person unaffiliated with the major crime families.

Right on 1:30pm the bell on the door chimes and Stiles looks up. Much to his surprise Derek Hale of all people is the one who walks through the door.

Derek is the head of the Hale family, and has been for just under a year now. The leadership of the Hale family had switched hands a few times in the last decade.

The matriarch of the family, Talia Hale, and her husband had been murdered in an attack by the Argents, a rival family, ten years prior. Their eldest daughter, Laura, had taken over. However Laura’s fate was similar to her mothers, and she had been gunned down in a drive by shooting two years ago. Laura and Derek’s uncle, Peter, had seized control of the family after Laura’s death. A mutiny in the Hale family had followed, which saw Derek take control from his uncle. Months of unease followed. Other families had tried to take over Hale territory, however the younger Hale had proved himself and things were slowly getting back to normal. Even with all the unease, the Hales had never lost their position as one of the most influential families of Beacon Hills.

Stiles has a vast knowledge of the crime families and other major players in Beacon Hills; he has to, it’s a part of his job. He has to know the inner working of the city’s underbelly so he can get in and out without being detected. He’s never met Derek before, the Hale’s had never hired him for anything. Peter had tried once a couple of years earlier, but negotiations had fallen through after a disagreement about price; Stiles had never found out the name of Peter’s intended target. Stiles has seen photos of Derek though, most taken with a telephoto lens. Derek is even more attractive in person than he is in photographs. His strong jawline and eyebrows give him an intense look. However the way his face softens as he smiles at the waitress makes him look much more approachable.

At first Stiles thinks that maybe Derek could just be checking in on things; there was chatter that Luna’s was part of the Hale’s money laundering scheme. However Derek heads straight for the booth that had been mentioned in the message.

Stiles slips into the booth opposite Derek a few moments later. Derek levels a glare at the young man encroaching on his space without invitation. He can’t be any older than twenty four or twenty five, and smirks at Derek like they are old friends.

“Can I help you?” Derek asks, voice cool and clipped.

“I think I’m the one that can help you.” Stiles puts his elbows on the table and leans in closer to Derek.  “Although I probably already have by accident. I bet you’re glad you don’t have to organise to take out Kali yourself, right?”

Derek looks Stiles up and down, before he nods and stands up. “Follow me.”

Derek leads Stiles through the door marked ‘Staff Only’. There are three doors down the cramped hallway, the first labelled ‘Manager’, the second ‘Cleaning’, the third door is unmarked; it is this door that Derek opens. The two men enter a small but clean office. As Derek shuts the door behind them all the noise from the diner is muffled; the room isn’t soundproof but it is more private.

Derek removes his overcoat, draping it over the back of the chair behind the desk before he sits. He motions for Stiles to sit. Stiles remains standing.

“You work for Red?” Derek asks.

Stiles chuckles. It’s always interesting hearing other people use the moniker for him. It was a stupid nickname he had picked up as a kid, back when he used to wear a red hoodie religiously. He had used it once as a teenager in a moment of painc after being asked “what should we call you?”. It was never supped to stick, but now ‘Red’ is a recognised name in the Beacon Hills underworld. 

He scratches the back of his neck and shakes his head. “I’m not like you Derek. I don’t let other’s handle my work for me.”

If Derek is surprised to be speaking to Red himself he doesn’t show it. He quickly changes the subject. “So you know who I am?”

“Of course I do.” Stiles rolls his eyes and finally takes a seat. “How’s your uncle doing?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Stiles puts his feet on Derek’s desk and ignores the disapproving look the other man gives him. “Tell me, how did you find out about me?”

“From the Calavera’s,” Derek answers. “We knew they had commissioned the hit on Kali, we simply wanted to know who had achieved what so many others had failed.”

Stiles nods. Derek didn’t lie about the Calavera’s which Stiles appreciates. “With your uncle out of the way I didn’t think the Hale’s had anyone left to remove. Unless something happened while I was in Europe?”

“I don’t believe for a moment you were ever out of the country.” Derek shifts forward in his seat.

The corner of Stiles’ mouth twitches upwards. “So why meet with me?” Nobody had ever questioned Red’s whereabouts before. When Red said he couldn’t or wouldn’t take a job no one argued.

“I want you to come work for us, for me. Exclusively.”

Stiles narrows his eyes. He loses a fraction of his control and he raises his voice. “I’m no one's’ guard dog! I don’t do private security.” In an instant Derek becomes decidedly less interesting to Stiles. If all he is looking for is extra security then he has come to the wrong place.

“No one’s asking you to,” Derek says. “We have a list that we’d like you to take care of. To avoid suspicion I’d prefer for the names on the list to be crossed off over a number of months.”

“I can do that.” Stiles takes his feet off the desk and sits up properly. “I can do that without pledging allegiance to the Hales.”

“This is also protection for us.”

A full smile spreads across Stiles’ face. “Of course. You want me  _ exclusively  _ so others can’t hire me to take you out.”

“Yes,” Derek says truthfully.

“Why should I do this?” Stiles asks. “Impress me.”

“You’re one of the most notorious killers, and we’d rather consider you an asset than a threat. When I heard Red was behind Kali’s murder I knew if it were possible I wanted to bring Red on. We’re aware of your regular fee per person, and we’re willing to double it. We’re also willing to pay a monthly retainer fee to cover living expenses in between jobs.”

“Keep going.” Stiles would be lying if he said he isn’t intrigued. Money is always interesting, and he enjoys the flattery. But it isn’t enough for him to leave his freelance career behind yet.

“On paper you would be listed as a security consultant for Hale Construction. Legally it would be all above board. I’m assuming you have aliases to use for these kinds of situations?” Stiles nods and Derek continues. “We would put you up in an apartment or house of your choosing, and you would have limited access to the Hale Estate.”

Stiles reacts to this news. He sits up straighter and looks at Derek properly. Having access to the Hale Estate is a huge deal. Security had been tightened after Peter was dethroned, and Stiles only knew of a handful of people who possibly had unlimited access to the Hale Estate.

“Obviously if anything went  _ wrong _ you would be the first to be removed,” Derek adds. His tone indicating that Stiles wouldn’t be allowed to leave alive.

“Got it. No killing the members of your inner circle,” Stiles winks

“No killing  _ anyone  _ unless I give you express orders,” Derek says. His tone sharp; refusing to take any of Stiles’ shit.

“What happens if others find out I’ve become Hale property?” Stiles asks. “What if the Calavera’s or the Argent’s decided I’m too much of a threat, and another war breaks out?”

“How many people have seen your face besides me?”

Stiles doesn’t reply and it’s Derek’s turn to smile.

“I thought so,” Derek nods. “I have never heard of Red agreeing to a face to face meeting and showing up.”

“I don’t normally have the head of a family meet me,” Stiles says. “They usually send lackeys. Which you knew, and that’s why you showed up yourself.” Technically he had shown up to a few before, but he had never revealed himself to the person who had come to meet him. Sometimes it was more fun to play with them than actually take on jobs.

“I knew the only way to get you to agree was to interest you enough,” Derek sits back and put his hand behind his head. “And I think I managed to interest you. So do you agree?”

Stiles considers the offer. Aligning himself with the Hale’s is risky, although he is probably making more enemies by killing people for all the syndicates in play. “I don’t come alone, I have an associate I work with. If you want me you have to bring her on board too. Same deal you have for me, the housing, the monthly retainer, the access to the estate.”

“Why is she important?” Derek doesn’t move, but he doesn’t sound as smug as he had moments earlier.

“She helps me gather the information I need and plan. She’s the smartest person you will ever meet. This is non-negotiable.” Stiles has known Lydia since they were teenagers, and he isn’t about to ditch her just because Derek Hale asked him to.

Derek nods. He leans forward and picks up a pen the desk, then scribbles a number down on a loose sheet of paper. “Come to the estate tonight, around six. Bring your associate. Dress for dinner.”

Derek hands Stiles the piece of paper, it has the security code to the main gate written on it. Stiles stays seated, looking at the paper, while Derek stands and puts his coat back on.

“Do you have the number memorised?” Derek asks. When Stiles nods Derek takes the paper from him again and puts it into the breast pocket of his jacket.

Derek waits for Stiles to stand before he opens the door. He lets the younger man out first.

“By the way,” Derek says. “What name do you go by? Now that we’ve come to an agreement it feels strange referring to you as Red.”

“You can call me Stiles.”

“Stiles,” Derek repeats with a raised eyebrow.

“That’s the closest you’ll ever get to my real name.”


	2. The Hale Estate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is invited to the Hale Estate for the first time to talk with Derek, and to meet some of the other Hale family members.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, everyone. here's a little more world building and introductions for you. in all honesty about 60% of this fic was written back in like 2014, so editing it has been an experience bc I don't remember half of what I wrote.

The Hale Estate can be described more accurately as a compound. It’s five acres surrounded by ten feet high walls with motion detectors. The large front gate leading into the estate looks like it could keep almost anything out. The mansion itself is a huge, sprawling building. In Stiles’ opinion, it looks like the setting of a horror movie.

Stiles rings the doorbell to the front door of the Hale Mansion. There is no doubt that all important parties had been alerted to Stiles and Lydia’s presence long before the doorbell had been rung. Stiles is certain that when he keyed in the code for the gate, whoever was in charge of security would have known. Although he can’t see cameras, they’re bound to be tracking their every move.

When the door opens Stiles is more surprised than he probably should be to see Derek.

“Maid’s day off?” Stiles jokes. He steps over the threshold without a formal invitation.

Derek steps aside and ignores Stiles’ comment. He extends a hand to Lydia instead. “I’m Derek Hale.”

“It’s nice to meet you Mr Hale,” Lydia shakes his hand. “I’m Lydia Martin.”

“You can call me Derek.” He addresses both Lydia and Stiles. Stiles doesn’t appear to be paying attention. “At least when we’re at the estate. When in public I do prefer to be more formal.”

Stiles snorts. “Got to keep up appearances, huh?”

“Yes, I do.” Derek focuses his attention wholly on Stiles. “I’m still rebuilding our name that was shattered after the incident with my uncle. I do not need to be undermined by someone who dresses like he’s still in high school.”

“You never said this was a fancy dinner,” Stiles points out. He’s dressed in jeans, a graphic t-shirt with a plaid shirt on over the top. It’s a statement more than anything. He had agreed to dinner with the Hale’s but didn’t agree to dressing for dinner. Stiles wants Derek to know that he’s still calling some of the shots.

Lydia rolls her eyes and takes Stiles by the arm. “Thank you Derek, for inviting us tonight and giving us an employment opportunity.” Unlike Stiles, Lydia dressed appropriately. She’s wearing a forest green dress that falls just above her knees, and black heels. Her hair falls in loose curls around her face.

“Speaking of which,” Derek starts walking, leading them through the house to his office. “I have some contracts, for the Hale Construction cover. I was thinking you’d like to look over them before dinner?”

“That sounds good,” Lydia says.

As they pass one of the ground floor living rooms, Stiles and Lydia see a couple sitting on one of the couches. Stiles recognises the man instantly; Scott McCall, Derek’s heir apparent. The woman takes somewhat longer to place. When Stiles does recognise her he’s surprised.

They’re heading up the stairs, just out of earshot of the living room, when Stiles blurts out the question burning his tongue. “Was that your protégé with the granddaughter of-”

“Yes,” Derek answers quickly. “And please, do me a favour, and ask Scott for the details. I do not have the time nor patience to go through the whole story.”

Stiles is quiet until Derek ushers him and Lydia into the office. The room is dominated by large floor to ceiling windows, looking out across the gardens. In front of the windows is a large wooden desk with a leather top. The walls of the room are lined with bookshelves in matching wood. There is an empty section on the right wall, where a low couch sits. Two black chairs sit in front of the desk, and there’s a matching high backed chair behind the desk.

The three of them take their seats and Derek produces some paper from a folder that was sitting ready on the desk.

“These are the contracts we have right now,” Derek says. “Personal information has been left blank. The amount for the monthly allowance also needs to be filled in.”

“Are you saying we can name our price?” Stiles is slumped in his seat, leafing through the pages Derek had handed him.

“No,” Derek looks at his own copy of the contract. “I was waiting to meet your associate before we set the price. I wanted to see if she really is worth it.”

Lydia looks at Derek over the top of the contract. “Hale Construction made almost 200 million last quarter over all it's projects. You also have a multibillion dollar deal with Quartz. They’ve hired you to build their new apartment building,” Lydia says. “But anyone has access to that information, so that’s not too interesting. What’s interesting is Eclipse. One of your clubs and your hub for drug distribution. An estimated 100 million dollars worth of product moved through there last year alone.” Lydia puts the contract down on the table. “I also know that you’re certified to carry a concealed weapon, and you utilize that right. However, as far as I can tell, you never really use it.”

“You’re not wrong about any of that.”

“Of course I’m not.” Lydia crosses her arms.

Derek slides a piece of paper across the desk to Stiles. The paper has several annotated figures written on it. Stiles picks it up and shows Lydia. Hey both take a moment to process the price Derek is offering. 

Stiles and Lydia look at each other. “That will work,” Stiles says.

That amount will cover payment for jobs, and monthly expenses for the two of them. It also includes a significant stipend to cover their loss of income, while they’re unable to take other jobs. Stiles and Lydia are expensive, but they’re worth it, if they do say so themselves. 

At that moment there’s a knock on the door. “Come in,” Derek calls.

A blonde woman pokes her head around the door. “Dinner is ready, Derek. We’re just waiting for the three of you.”

“Thanks, Erica. We’ll be down in a moment,” Derek tells her.

Erica nods, and gives Stiles and Lydia a once over glance before closing the door again. 

“We shouldn’t keep them waiting.” Derek stands. “We can continue discussing the details after we eat.”

*

Waiting for them in the dining room are six people seated around the table. Derek takes his place at the head of the table, leaving Stiles and Lydia to take the last two set places at the table across from one another.

“Everyone, this is Stiles and Lydia, our newest recruits.” Derek starts the introductions. Neither Stiles nor Lydia appear to be bothered by the people closely scrutinizing them. “This is Boyd, Scott, Allison, Erica, Isaac, and Malia.” Derek points to each person in turn. “There are others who you will meet in the coming weeks.”

Lydia nods polite hellos to all of them. Stiles fiddles with his cutlery, looking bored.

“Allison can you pass the beans?” Erica asks.

And with that it’s like a normal family meal. Everyone talking over each other and taking different side dishes. Erica and Isaac start telling Malia a story about an incident from earlier that day. Boyd and Scott are talking about the plans for the weekend. If the conversation wasn’t peppered with references to drugs, weapons, and money laundering, there would be no sign that this is a group of organized criminals.

“I’m assuming we can talk shop during dinner?” Lydia asks, once everyone has quieted down a bit and started eating.

“Of course,” Derek says with a nod. “If you have any questions please feel free to ask. Just not about Scott and Allison, we don’t have all night,” he adds quickly.

Scott shoots Derek an annoyed look, but Allison just smiles. Erica giggles. 

“What do all of you do?” Lydia asks.

“You all must be  _ very  _ important to be here,” Stiles says in mock seriousness.

The group all look to Derek, who in turn looks at Stiles.

“You’ll learn more about them soon enough,” Derek says.   

“I am not dealing with him,” Boyd says to Derek, pointing his fork at Stiles.

“Don’t worry. Stiles and Lydia report directly to me. You’re only their boss on paper.” 

Stiles switches his attention to Allison. “You’re an Argent,” he points out.

“I am,” Allison adjusts the grip on her knife. “But I’ve proved myself.”

Derek lets out an exasperated sigh. “Please,” he says. “When I’m not around you can quiz Allison and Scott as much as you want.”

Stiles shrugs and his attention moves again. He doesn’t particularly care about the things he’s saying. He wants to gauge the reactions of the group.

“So, Malia, how’d you feel when your cousin kicked your dad out of power?” Stiles asks, a sweet smile on his face.

That question causes everyone at the table to fall silent. Peter is still obviously a sensitive subject. But yet, Malia doesn’t appear put out by the probing questions at all. 

“I didn’t even know Peter was my dad for most of my life,” Malia says calmly. “Derek’s the one that brought me into the family.”

“Are the two of you going to be moving in here?” Scott asks Stiles and Lydia, jumping in to diffuse the tension.

“Derek mentioned he would provide housing. I didn’t realise he meant at the estate,” Lydia says, looking to Derek.

At the same time Stiles says. “You’d let us move in here?!”

“I told you we will pay for the apartment or house of your choice,” Derek says. “But yes, you do have the opportunity to have a room here. Everyone else does, although I’m the only one who lives here full time.

Stiles mumbles something about keeping your enemies closer under his breath.

“You’ve seen the size of this place, the amount of rooms in it is ridiculous,” Isaac adds.

“Twenty bedrooms,” Allison says. ”Even more bathrooms. It really is a bit ridiculous.”

“The rest of us are in and out all the time,” Scott says. “I probably spend four or five nights a week here.”

“I have doubles of most of my favourite outfits so I don’t have to go to my apartment to change,” Erica admits. 

“So I have no closet space in two different homes,” Boyd says.

Stiles and Lydia look across the table at each other. Lydia answers for both of them. “We’ll have to talk about that.”

Stiles and Lydia are wary of the offer. It could be a trap or a test of some kind. It’s something that, interests them, of course. An offer like that is not something people encounter every day. However they still need to be careful. 

The rest of the dinner is reasonably quiet. Every now and again Derek asks a cryptic question to one of his subordinates. Each time he receives an equally cryptic answer in return. Derek does want to bring Stiles and Lydia into the inner circle. However he doesn’t trust them enough to talk freely about business yet.

After dinner Stiles and Lydia find themselves once again in Derek’s office.

“Do they know who I am?” Is the first thing Stiles asks when they’re alone.

“They know about your skill set,” Derek tells him. “But only Scott, Boyd, Cora and I know you’re Red.”

“I’d like it if we could keep it that way,” Stiles says. “The less people who know the better.”

“Does this mean you’re going to agree to work for me?”

“Yes.”

Stiles and Lydia give Derek all the information he needs. The IDs they provide are the most impressive fakes Derek has ever seen. He makes a mental note to ask where they got them. They don’t need fake IDs often, but access to good one's always comes in handy. 

Once everything is in order Derek escorts Stiles and Lydia back to the front door. This time they don’t pass anyone else in the house. After dinner everyone else had dispersed and left to go do their own things. 

“I’ll contact you about the first job I want you to complete,” Derek tells them. “Let me know if you want a room here,” he finishes just before closing the door.

*

The next day, around 4pm, Derek sends Stiles a text telling him to come to the mansion as soon as possible. 

Driving out to the estate Stiles contemplates the offer to have a room at the mansion more seriously. If only for the convenience of being closer when Derek needs him. He doesn’t want to drag his ass all the way across town every time Derek wants to talk

The same code he had used the night before still works at the gate, so he has no problems getting up to the mansion. This time Boyd greets him at the front door.

“So you remember the way to Derek’s office?” Boyd asks, ushering Stiles inside. 

Stiles nods. “Yeah, of course.” 

“Then you can make your own way up,” Boyd says. “I need to get back to work.” 

Stiles feels a little unnerved being left alone in the entryway of the mansion like that. It feels like a test, but he’s not sure what they could be testing for. Choosing not to dwell on it, Stiles makes his way through the house to Derek’s office. 

Stiles knocks soundly on the solid wood door.

“Come in,” Derek calls.

Derek is sitting behind his desk, the sleeves of his shirt folded up to his elbows. He isn’t wearing a tie, and the top two buttons of his shirt are undone. He looks up when Stiles closes the door again behind him.

“Sit down,” Derek says, motioning at the chairs in front of his desk. 

Instead of sitting in one of the chairs Derek had indicated, Stiles sprawls out on the couch on the side of the room. Derek doesn’t comment on it.

“Who’s the first person you want me to kill?” Stiles asks casually.

Derek stands up and walks across the office to hand Stiles a photograph. “I’m assuming you know States Attorney Harris?”

“Of course,” Stiles nods. Everyone knows who Harris is. You can’t walk down the street without seeing one of his campaign posters. His TV advertisements run around the clock.

“So you know he’s running for Governor,” Derek continues. Stiles nods again. “His whole platform as States Attorney has always been based on bringing in harsher penalties for drug trafficking. Now that he’s running for Governor he’s pushing harder than ever. ”

“Which would obviously be bad for your business,” Stiles interjects.

“Yes. Unfortunately it looks like Harris is going to win the election next month. We need for that not to happen.”   

“I assume you’ve already tried digging up dirt on him?” Stiles asks. 

“Yeah,” Derek sighs. “Unfortunately the guy only  _ looks _ like a sleaze ball. Technically he’s clean.”

“How do you want it done?” Stiles studies the photograph intensely. “Long range sniper? He’d never see it coming.”

Derek walks back over to his desk. “Actually,” he says. “I was hoping for something a little bit more creative.”

Stiles sits up properly and raises an eyebrow at Derek. “Creative,” he repeats.

“If you can get close enough to Harris I, we, would like for it to look like an accidental OD.”

“What kind of drugs?”

“Preferably heroin, we can supply you with that. It’s what Harris has been most vocal about.”

Stiles grins and walks over to Derek’s desk. He finally sits in one of the chairs in front of the desk. “You don’t just want him dead, you want his entire character destroyed.” Stiles puts his elbows on the desk and leans closer to Derek. “This is about more than the proposed laws, isn’t it?”

“You don’t need to know the motives,” Derek says coolly.

“That’s a yes.” Stiles smirks but sits back in his chair. “I can get close enough to Harris,” Stiles tells Derek, his tone more serious now

This is definitely a test. A high profile target, plus an unusual execution method. It has to be not only a test of skill, but also of willingness. 

“You’re sure?”

Stiles nods. “I’m sure. We’ll just need a little time for figure everything out.”

“You have three weeks to get it done,” Derek says.

“I’ll get it done,” Stiles assures him.

“You can go now,” Derek nods towards the door.

“Yes, sir,” Stiles gives Derek a sarcastic salute and wink before leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u can find me on [tumblr](http://fighthaus.tumblr.com/), im always up to talk to people, so you can come tell me what you think of the fic, or just to chat in general.


	3. The First Job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this chapter is up so late!! I was at my parent's house for the holidays and didn't have any internet, and I only just got home. 
> 
> The good news is I'm going to stick to the regular schedule this week, so Chapter 4 will be up tomorrow.
> 
> **Content Warnings for this chapter: murder, drug overdose**

A week into researching Harris’ life, Stiles and Lydia take Derek up on his offer of a room in the mansion. 

Both of them had more or less wanted to move in when Derek extended the offer to them. (Lydia threatened to shoot Stiles with his own gun if he said the phrase ‘an offer we can’t refuse’ again). But they also wanted to take time to weigh the pros and cons. In the end convenience wins out. They need to be close to Derek to get jobs done, and nowhere is closer than the estate itself. 

They can’t escape the oddness of the situation. No one Stiles has done work for has ever acted the way Derek has. It’s strange and no matter how much he thinks about it Stiles can’t come up with the reasoning behind Derek’s actions. This is a puzzle to him now, and Stiles isn’t going to rest until he has all of the pieces. 

It’s early on a Wednesday morning when Stiles and Lydia start to move their things into the Hale estate.

Erica is the one to let them in this time. She leads them upstairs to the west wing of the house. This is a completely different area to where Derek’s office is. Stiles wonders how easily someone could get lost trying to find their way around. Derek joins them just as Erica is opening the door to one of the bedrooms.

“I hope this room is okay for the two of you?” Derek asks. Everyone can see how stiff and tense he is, although none of them comment on it.

Stiles and Lydia look inside the room. It is indeed a nice room. Large and sparsely decorated with modern furniture and art. Although Stiles and Lydia notice the problem at the same time.

“There’s one bed,” Stiles says, looking at Lydia.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Lydia agrees.

There is indeed only one king sized bed against the far wall. Neither of them are angry, simply amused. 

“You’re not..?” Derek squares his shoulders as he trails off, and tenses even further. “I assumed, I’m sorry. We have one other room in the east wing that’s spare at the moment?”

“Only one?” Stiles asks, pointedly peering back out the door at the other closed doors within sight.

“Some of the rooms are being used for…storage, at the moment,” Derek explains. “They don’t have beds in them. Come on, I’ll show you the other room and the two of you can figure out who gets which.”

As they make their way over to the east wing Stiles is struck with the urge to snoop through the rooms they pass. He thinks maybe if he was alone he’d give into that temptation. 

“I want the first one,” Lydia says the moment they open the door to the second room.

Both rooms are the same size, and similarly furnished. However the first room has bigger windows overlooking the west lawn.

“Fine by me,” Stiles says. He doesn’t particularly care which room he sleeps in, so he’s happy to let Lydia choose.

“The code to the gate changes weekly,” Derek says. “You have access to the common areas, living rooms and the kitchen, as well as the gardens. There’s a gym and a pool too that you’re free to use. But I have to warn you the pool is outdoors and not heated. All bedrooms but your own are off limits unless you’re explicitly invited in. The same thing applies for my office. The attic and basement are also off limits.”

Stiles and Lydia nod along with Derek’s list of rules.

Malia and Boyd are both home. Derek enlists their help with bringing all Stiles and Lydia’s belongings in. Once they see how much Stiles and Lydia had brought with them however, their help doesn’t seem as necessary.

“This is all you have?” Derek asks. 

“We move around a lot,” Stiles shrugs.

“You learn to travel light,” Lydia adds. However, she does have significantly more things than Stiles.

In his pocket Derek’s phone rings, so he leaves Lydia and Stiles to unpack by themselves. He fishes his phone out of his pocket as he head back towards his office. 

Stiles dumps his things in his room – swearing to unpack later – then joins Lydia in her room. He lounges on the bed while Lydia meticulously goes through the things she had brought with her.

The two of them are quiet as Lydia unpacks. It’s a silence they lapse into easily. Quiet is something that comes naturally to them after the amount of time they have spent together. 

Half an hour later Derek appears in the doorway, and knocks lightly on the door frame. Both Stiles and Lydia look up. Stiles looks back down at his phone when he sees it’s Derek.

“Lydia?” Derek asks.

“Yes?” Lydia slips a dress onto a coat hanger.

“I was wondering if you’d be interested in helping Allison with her new endeavour.” Derek takes a few steps into the room. He’s a lot less tense than he had been earlier. “If you wanted something to do while you weren’t helping Stiles.”

“What’s Allison doing?” Lydia asks. She hands up her dress then folds her arms. Derek has piqued her interest.

“Weapons trading,” Derek says. “She’s opened lines of communication with several groups that might strengthen our involvement.”

“Friends of the family?” Stiles asks.

“Enemies of the Argent’s,” Derek corrects. “Which basically makes them friends of ours.” Allison’s loyalty now being with the Hale’s turned out to be benefiting them in more ways than anticipated. Having Allison make deals with those who once sought to bring her harm was one more test of her loyalty. “I thought since you seem to be detailed oriented you could help her out with the specifics of trade deals.”

“I’ll help in any way I can,” Lydia says. She isn’t about to pass up an opportunity to learn more about the Hale family and how they work.

“Thank you,” Derek nods and switches his attention to Stiles. “Stiles.”

“Yo.” Stiles doesn’t look up from his phone.

“Don’t forget you only have two weeks left now,” Derek says.

Stiles finally looks up at Derek and nods once. “I’m on top of it,” he says.

“Good.” Derek nods again, then leaves the room, shutting the door behind himself.

“What do you think about Derek?” Lydia asks once she and Stiles are alone again.

“I think he probably has the room bugged,” Stiles says. He raises his voice slightly “But that’s not going to stop me from talking about what his ass looks like in those pants.”

Stiles would be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed how attractive Derek is. Not that he’s planning on acting on any of the unsavory thoughts he’s had. Client’s are always off limits. He’s broken several personal rules already, but sleeping with Derek is one line he’s not going to cross. Besides, even if he wanted to Derek would probably dash any attempt. To his credit Derek does his best to keep his face neutral around Stiles. However, Stiles has noticed the way the mask sometimes slips, and Derek looks at him with emotions ranging from displeasure to out right disgust. 

Lydia rolls her eyes and continues going through her clothes. “Who else do you think is on the list?” she asks, changing the subject.

Stiles shrugs. “Could be anyone. Rival families, people who haven’t paid their debts, politicians. Hell, he could go all out and order a hit on Gerard Argent.”

“I don’t think even Derek’s that crazy,” Lydia says.

“He did just let us move in and we’ve barely known him for a week,” Stiles points out. He can’t shake his suspicions. 

“You act like the Hale’s haven’t done their research.” Lydia starts to unpack her shoes. “Derek might not know your real name, but I bet he knows every detail of all the kills attributed to you. And I’m sure he would have run a background check on me.”

“Speaking of my real name,” Stiles says. “While we’re here can you not do that thing you do?”

“What thing?” Lydia asks, straightening up and putting her hands on her hips.

“That thing where you use my real name when you’re pissed at me.” Stiles stands up and walks over to Lydia. “You’re still the only one here I trust,” he whispers in her ear.

Lydia nods in agreement. “Your secrets are always safe with me.” She leaves a red lipstick mark on Stiles’ cheek.

*

As it turned out Stiles only needs a week  and a half to get the Harris job done. With Lydia’s help he has the Attorney’s house cased inside and out, as well as his schedule memorised.

The Attorney lives alone and has a surprisingly outdated security system. It doesn’t take much effort for Stiles to break in and set everything up.

Harris’ only vice is expensive scotch. But when he sits down with a glass of his favourite after a long day, he never even notices that it has been tampered with. 

The sleeping pills Stiles mixes in with the scotch are the same one's that the Attorney has a current prescription for. Combined with the alcohol they’re enough to put Harris to sleep quickly. 

Stiles waits patiently outside in his car until he’s sure Harris is asleep. As busy as he is the man sticks to a strict schedule, and always has his scotch at the same time each night. 

Breaking into Harris’ house the second time is just as easy as the first.

Harris is passed out on the couch when Stiles creeps silently into the living room. He doesn’t stir when Stiles carefully rolls up his shirt sleeve. He remains fast asleep as Stiles ties the band around his bicep. The needle slips into Harris’ vein with ease and Stiles injects the drug into the man's system. Harris’ body reacts as it overdoses; desperately trying to stay alive. Stiles stands to the side, watching passively until it’s over. It’s messier than he would have preferred, but this is what was wanted. 

Once Harris is dead Stiles sets to work setting the rest of the scene. He pours the rest of Harris’ scotch, then rinses the bottle to get rid of any drug residue. He leaves drug paraphernalia – old needles as well as more heroin – in both Harris’ bathroom and bedroom. He briefly laments the fact that he can’t do more to Harris’ body. The lack of old track marks will surely be noticed, but all they can do is hope it won’t be questioned too hard. Stiles makes sure the front door and all the windows are locked. He opens the back door, locks the deadbolt, and then pulls it shut behind him. To anyone looking it would appear as if everything had been locked from the inside and Harris was alone.

The whole thing takes a little over an hour. 

*

When Stiles gets back to the Hale estate it’s getting close to eleven o’clock. He goes straight up to Derek’s office. He raps on the door and waits for Derek to tell him to enter.

“It’s done,” Stiles says, walking into the office.

Stiles stops in his tracks when he notices that Derek isn’t sitting at the desk. It takes a second for Stiles to spot Derek lying on the couch reading. The older man is dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweater, he’s also barefoot. Derek would look almost peaceful if it wasn’t for the gun sitting on his thigh.

“Good.” Is the only thing Derek says. It’s still too early to tell whether everything has gone smoothly. For now however, Derek is pleased.  

“Any chance you’re going to tell me who else is on your list now?” Stiles asks.

“Nope.” Derek flips a page in his book.

“Is it because you don’t trust me? Or because you just like being secretive and difficult?”

Derek shrugs. “A little from column a, a little from column b.”

Stiles walks along the side of the room, skimming his fingers along the bookshelves. “How long do you want to wait before the next one?”

“At least a month,” Derek answers. He closes his book but otherwise he doesn’t move.

“Am I just supposed to hang around here for a month?” Stiles asks. “Or do you have something else for me to do.”

Derek is quiet for a few moment before he finally sits up. He snorts when he sees Stiles sitting on his chair behind his desk. Stiles almost disappears into the dark leather of the chair. He’s dressed in black jeans and a dark jacket. He still has his leather gloves on; his hands folded neatly in his lap.

“If you get bored I’m sure we can find you something to do,” Derek tells him. “You could always go out to the construction sites and do what I’m technically paying you for.”

Stiles lets out a low laugh. “Good joke.”

Derek stands up. He tucks the gun into the waistband of his jeans, then walks over to the desk. He picks up his phone off the desk and checks his text messages. Stiles notices that Derek’s sweater has thumb holes.

“Come on,” Derek says, nodding at the door.

“Are you sending me to bed?” 

“Yes,” Derek nods. “Or you can go to the gym, the pool, the kitchen, back into town. Somewhere that isn’t my office.”

Stiles rises to his feet and walks past Derek out of the office. He waits in the hallway for Derek. Stiles is surprised to see Derek lock the office door on his way out; slipping the key into the pocket of his jeans.

The house is quiet as Derek and Stiles walk towards the hall where Stiles’ bedroom is.  

“You don’t have to walk me to my room,” Stiles says.

“I’m not,” Derek tells him. “That one is my room.” Derek pointed to the door across the hall from Stiles’.

“Oh,” Stiles pauses with his hand on the doorknob to his room. “I thought your room was on the other side of the house. You know, the room with the big fancy double doors.”

“That was Peter’s room,” Derek explains. “I don’t want it.”

Stiles doesn’t know what to say to that so he opens the door to his room. “Night, Derek.”

“Goodnight, Stiles,” Derek replies, walking into his own room.

Stiles sleeps peacefully that night. Taking a man’s life doesn’t weigh on his conscious. It hasn’t for a very long time.

*

By eleven the next morning State Attorney Harris’ death is the number one headline. The fact that it had been an overdose had been leaked to the press. However, according to the media, the police are not treating it as suspicious.

Derek, in his regular suit and jacket, as well as Stiles, Lydia, Allison, and Malia, gather in the kitchen to watch the midday news report. The news stations don’t have any more information than they’d had an hour earlier.

“I’m going to call Parrish later,” Derek says to no one in particular. “See if the cops have anything they’re not sharing with the news.”

“I did my job well,” Stiles says. “The cops aren’t going to have anything.”

Derek looks at Stiles with a blank expression. “I’m going to call Parrish and make sure anyway.”

Allison is the one to break the silence that follows. “I have a meeting lined up for tonight with the Everett’s,” she says. “I’d like to take Lydia along if that’s okay.”

Derek nods. “Take Stiles as well,” he decides.

“Stiles?” Allison asks. “Does he even know anything about trading weapons?”

“ _ He  _ is right here,” Stiles says. “And yes I know a thing or two about weapons.”

“Actually, I changed my mind,” Derek says. “Take Boyd with you. He knows more about what we’re looking to do.”

“Why can’t I go?” Stiles asks.

“Do you want to go?” Derek looks at Stiles pointedly.

“Well, no,” Stiles admits. Stiles knows how weapons work. He knows how to use them, and he is good at it. But he doesn’t really have much interest in selling them.

“That’s why you’re not going.” Derek stands up from the table and leaves the room without another word. Stiles is beginning to understand leaving abruptly is a habit of Derek’s.

“So I guess I’m just hanging around here tonight,” Stiles says.

“You could always come to Eclipse,” Malia suggests. “Cora’s back in town so everyone’s going to be out.”

“Cora? Derek’s sister?” That piques Stiles’ interest. He hasn’t met Cora Hale yet.

Malia nods. “She’s the one that runs the drugs through Eclipse. She just got back from a meeting with some of our out of state contacts.”

“Erica will be there too,” Allison adds. “She’s got some of her girls working at Eclipse a few days a week. And I’ll probably be swinging by after the meeting tonight.” She turns to Lydia. “You should really come.”

“Drugs and prostitutes,” Stiles chuckles. “Sounds like my kind of scene.”

Lydia snorts. “Drugs maybe, but since when do you have anything to do with prostitutes anymore, St-Stiles?” She had been incredibly close to calling Stiles by his real last name.

Stiles shoots Lydia a look but changes the subject. “What do you mean by ‘everyone’?” he asks Malia.

“Everyone,” Malia repeats. “The whole family.”

“What about the whole family?” Isaac asks, walking into the kitchen.

“I’m telling Stiles who’s going to Eclipse tonight.” Malia says.

Isaac hops up onto the counter and grabs an apple out of the bowl. “Yeah, we always go out when Cora gets back after making a big sale,” he says. “Plus tonight we have the added bonus of celebrating Harris being out of the way.”

“You’ll get to meet everyone else,” Allison tells him.

“Is Danny going to be there?” Malia asks.

Allison nods. “I was speaking to him last night. He said he’s got to update the cameras anyway, so he’s going to come in just before open then hang around.”

“Are you going to come?” Isaac asks Stiles through a mouthful of apple.

“Why not?” Stiles shrugs. “It sounds better than hanging around here by myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you guys are thinking so far. honestly this fic has been a WIP for so long and I've reread it so many times I can't tell if I love it or if I hate it anymore. 
> 
> u can find me on [tumblr](http://fighthaus.tumblr.com/)


	4. A Night Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its 11:55 pm, but its still Wednesday AEST, so im technically still on time with this chapter.

Everyone is busy with their own things, so Stiles ends up catching a taxi out to Eclipse by himself. When he arrives it’s 11:30pm and he can hear muffled music from the sidewalk. He approaches the line of people stretching down the street. At the end of the line realises he doesn’t know if he will have to pay to get in. Stiles decides to try his luck and skips the line, approaching one of the bouncers directly.

The bouncer is built like an NFL linebacker, with a tribal tattoo on his neck. He gives Stiles a once over. “Name?”

“Stiles, I’m-”

“Yeah, you’re on the list,” the bouncer says. “Hand.”

“What?”

“Give me your hand.” The bouncer holds up the stamp and looks at Stiles as if he’s an idiot.

Stiles holds out his hand and lets the bouncer give him a stamp. The bouncer steps aside and allows Stiles to pass through into the club.

Inside the building is packed and Stiles fights his way through the crowd. He heads towards the VIP lounge; he figures that’s where the family will be. As he approaches he spots Erica, Malia and Isaac. There’s another bouncer at the foot of the stairs leading up to the VIP lounge. He asks for Stiles’ name as well, and upon hearing it lets Stiles pass without incident.

Erica spots him first. She smiles and waves Stiles over to where they are standing.

“Glad you could make it,” Erica shouts over the music. She’s warmer towards him than she has been in their previous encounters. The drink in her hand must be responsible for that. 

“Didn’t have anything better to do,” Stiles shrugs.

“Here let me introduce you to everyone,” Erica says. “This is Danny.” She points to a tall man with dimples who had been talking with Isaac. “Danny this is Stiles.”

“Nice to meet you,” Danny says, extending his hand to Stiles. 

“You too,” Stiles replies. 

It’s a simple, polite exchange yet it unnerves Stiles just a little. Danny knows who Stiles is, what he does. Yet Danny has no reaction to greeting and shaking hands with a contract killer. The calmness that the Hale’s exhibit around him is unusual. He’s used to people being scared of him, or even disgusted by him. What he isn’t used to is people treating him normally when they know his profession. Each encounter with the Hales’ leaves him more and more curious. 

When Stiles doesn’t say anything else Danny turns back to his conversation with Isaac.

Erica takes Stiles by the arm and leads him over to another group of people. “This is Kira, Jackson, and Liam,” Erica points to the three new faces in turn. They are talking with Scott.

“So you’re the one who did the job last night.” Jackson looks Stiles up and down.

“Yeah, I am,” Stiles nods.

“It was a good job,” Scott says. Jackson reluctantly nods in agreement.

“You’re a Whittemore?” Stiles asks Jackson. He’s never met any of the Whittemore clan. Growing up in Beacon Hills  however he’s aware of the family's reputation as formidable lawyers. He’s sure he’s seen Jackson’s photo in news articles before.

“I am,” Jackson says. He’s quick to remove the confused expression from his face and replace it with one of derision. “So?” Jackson’s sneer and attitude does little to shake Stiles. This is the behaviour he is more used to seeing from people. 

“As in the judge?” Stiles prods, just to be sure.

Jackson nods. “My grandfather’s on the bench,” he says. “And my father still practices law. He’s a prosecutor, but he wasn’t surprised when I went into criminal defence.”

“Christ,” Stiles runs a hand through his hair. “Here I was thinking Allison was the only one who had family that would want to bring the Hale’s down.”

Jackson snorts. “You say that like my grandfather isn’t just as corrupt as Allison’s.”

Stiles raises an eyebrow but for once he doesn’t ask any more questions.

There are rumours that there’s high level corruption amongst judges and lawyers. However there’s no evidence that the rumours are true. Although it wouldn’t be surprising to find out judges are on the payroll in Beacon Hills. Stiles has to wonder if the Hale’s have Judge Whittemore, or someone else, in their pocket. Maybe Harris’ death will even pave the way for Jackson’s father to take over the State Attorney’s office.

“Come on,” Erica tugs on Stiles’ arm. “You still have to meet Cora.”

The two – arm in arm – walk over to one of the raised platforms that overlook both the VIP lounge and the main dance floor. On one of the low couches sits a woman, martini glass in hand, surrounded by people like a queen on her throne. She smiles, her whole face lighting up, when she sees Erica.

“Erica!” She stands and kisses Erica on one cheek then the other.

“Cora,” Erica greets. “This is Stiles.” She waves a hand to indicate Stiles, and Cora looks him up and down. Suddenly Stiles feels totally on display. Cora has the same piercing look that her brother has. 

“Nice to meet you,” Cora extends a hand to Stiles.

“Nice to finally meet you too,” Stiles echoes. He shakes Cora’s hand. “Thanks for adding my name to the door list.”

“Oh, I didn’t.” Cora sits down, pulling Erica down with her. “My brother did. He mentioned you might be coming. He also mentioned something about a cute redhead?”

“Lydia,” Stiles nods. He’s curious as to whether ‘cute’ was an adjective Derek had really used, or if Cora was paraphrasing. “She’s with Allison tonight. They should be coming by after their meeting. In fact, I thought they might have bet me here.”

“Speaking of your brother,” Erica says. “Is he coming tonight?”

“Who knows?” Cora sighs. “You know he doesn’t like coming here so much anymore.”

“I know,” Erica says. “I just thought things might be a little different now.”

“We just need to give him a bit more time,” Cora tells Erica.

Stiles quickly loses interest in the women’s cryptic conversation, and wanders away.

The VIP bar is the first place in the club that Stiles’ checks out. As it turns out that family drink for free, and the bartenders have been told Stiles’ name as well. Stiles slips his wallet back into his pocket and orders a drink. The young woman behind the bar gives him a flirty smile as she pours him a generous two fingers of whiskey.  

“Welcome to Eclipse,” she says.

“Thanks.” Stiles returns the smile, and adds a wink.

Stiles leaves the VIP lounge and heads into the crowd on the main dancefloor. The DJ has everyone on their feet and dancing to the loud beats.

It isn’t long before Stiles is dancing and grinding with strangers. He dances with men and women, not really caring who he’s touching. He leaves the dancefloor several times to get more drinks. During one trip to the bar he’s roped into doing shots with a girl celebrating her 21 st and her friends.

Stiles isn’t a stranger to clubbing, but it has been a while since he and Lydia last had a chance to unwind and get drunk.

Even with the alcohol in his system Stiles’ senses are still on alert. He spends every waking moment evaluating every situation he enters for danger. It’s almost an unconscious process now.

He can feel someone watching him. With the amount of people on the dancefloor it takes him a few moments to pinpoint who it is.

Derek is in the crowd, not too far away from Stiles. He is dressed in black jeans and a white v neck t-shirt. He is dancing with a blonde girl, who is grinding back against him. Derek stares right at Stiles.

Stiles nods to acknowledge Derek. The other man returns the nod, but still doesn’t look away.

A hand snakes its way around Stiles’ waist. Stiles looks over his shoulder to see who it is. It’s a man that Stiles had been dancing with earlier. He had introduced himself, but Stiles can’t remember his name to save his life.

Stiles doesn’t hesitate about dancing with the man again. He leans back and lets the man control the sway of their bodies, or at least he pretends to give up control.

Stiles glances back over at Derek. He’s still staring even though he is pressed flush against the blonde in front of him.

Neither the blonde nor the man Stiles is dancing with notice their dancing partners’ attention is elsewhere.

This time Stiles doesn’t look away from Derek. He arches his back, pressing back harder against the man behind him. Although the action isn’t for the man’s benefit. He’s showing off for Derek. He shouldn’t be. He knows that. There are some lines he doesn’t want to cross with Derek. Still, he likes the way Derek is looking at him. There’s nothing wrong with a little harmless teasing and pretending Stiles reasons with himself. 

Stiles feels the man’s mouth on the side of his neck, and he tips his head back a little, baring his throat more. He still doesn’t break eye contact with Derek.

Derek’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he slides one hand up the blonde’s body, from her hip to her breast. Stiles watches the movement closely. Briefly he let’s himself imagine what it would be like to have Derek’s hands on him instead of the strangers. 

Across the room the blonde laughs. The noise gets drowned out by the loud music, but Derek feels it vibrate through him.The blonde twists around in Derek’s arms so she is facing him. His hands move to her ass, and her lips drags against Derek’s earlobe.

“How about we get out of here?” She suggests.

From where he is Stiles can’t hear the question, but he can see the way Derek’s face changes. It’s an expression Stiles hasn’t seen on Derek’s face before. Uncertainty. 

Derek is still looking at Stiles when he nods and lets the blonde pull him away through the crowd. Stiles watches Derek go, then he closes his eyes and focuses on the hand gripping his hip. He pushes down the negative feelings starting to bubble up inside him. Jealousy is a stupid emotion, especially in this situation. There’s nothing between him and Derek. There never will be. 

A little while later the man Stiles is dancing with asks him to go home with him. Stiles doesn’t hesitate before saying yes.

*

Stiles wakes up in the morning, in the apartment the Hale’s pay for, with the man from the club next to him.

The sheets are still new and scratchy, and they smell liked the store overlaid with sex. The mattress is harder than the one in his bedroom at the estate.

The man – Tim? Tom? Stiles still isn’t sure – wakes up not long after Stiles. He gets dressed without a word. Stiles doesn’t make an effort to talk to him.

Before leaving the man writes down his phone number. He leaves it on the bedside table with a sly smile towards Stiles.

Stiles throws out the number without looking at it.

*

Across town Derek wakes up with a dry mouth, a pounding headache, and the blonde’s ass pressing up against him. It’s a sensation that is decidedly less pleasurable than it had been the night before.

Derek rolls over and extracts himself from the blonde's bed, without waking her up. He gathers up his clothes and manages to dress quietly, even though his head hurts with every small movement. He’s out of the apartment before the blonde woman stirs.

Derek never even learns her name.

*

Once he arrives back at the estate Derek wants nothing more than to curl up in his own bed, but he has work to do. So instead he changes into clean clothes – a Henley and sweatpants– and gets to work in his office.

The knock at the door makes Derek’s head pound, but he sighs and calls out for whoever’s there to enter anyway.

“You look like how I feel,” Stiles says from the doorway.

Derek grunts. “I’m sure I feel worse.”

“Doubt it.” Stiles steps inside and closes the door behind him.

Derek smells fresh, hot coffee and looks up. Stiles is dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants. He’s barefoot and holding two mugs of steaming coffee.

“That for me?” Derek asks.

Stiles nods and walks over to Derek’s desk. “Cora said you were back and feeling like shit, so I thought you might appreciate some.”

Derek accepts one of the mugs from Stiles and takes a sip. The hot liquid warms him from the inside out. He wonders idly how Stiles knows how he takes his coffee.

“How’d you like Eclipse?” Derek asks to break the silence.

“I really liked it,” Stiles says. “I think a lot of people were surprised to see you there.” He still isn’t sure why Derek had been avoiding Eclipse, or why Cora had made such a big deal about him being there.

Derek shrugs. “Eclipse was Laura’s place,” he explains. “I haven’t really been around since Cora took over.” What he means is: he hasn’t been around since Laura hdied, since Cora had taken over before then. But he doesn’t need to say that aloud, Stiles understands.

“Well it looked like you had fun.” Stiles gives Derek an over exaggerated wink. “That girl you were with was hot.”

Derek stares into his coffee. “I was gone this morning before she even woke up,” he admits.

“Hit it and quit it, heh?” Stiles tries to turn it into a joke, but it falls flat.

Derek gives another shrug. “I don’t usually do one night stands. What about the guy you were with?”

It’s Stiles’ turn to shrug. “I’ve had better dick. I don’t plan on calling him.” He refuses to think about how he would have preferred to have come back to the estate with Derek last night. 

Derek doesn’t know what to say to that, the bluntness leaving him at a loss for a moment. Then he laughs. His head hurts and he feels like he may be sick, but he still laughs. 

“Fair enough,” Derek says. When he looks up Stiles is smiling as well. 

“Anyway,” Stiles says, drawing the word out. “Unless you have someone you want me to kill I’m gonna go take a nap.”

“Go sleep, Stiles,” Derek says. “I don’t have anything for you to do today.”

Stiles nods and turns his back on Derek. When he reaches the door he looks back over his shoulder. “You know,” he says. “No one would blame you if you locked the door and took a nap on the couch.”

“Thanks for the coffee,” Derek says in reply.

Stiles winks at him again, subtler this time. Then he opens the door and lets himself out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nothing like a little UST hey? 
> 
> and ive been asked about why derek and stiles are so calm and comfortable around each other, despite their respective professions and histories, and i promise the reasons behind that will be explained and explored in later chapters. as it's currently set out the fic will have 22 chapters, it is slowburn and a lot more has to be revealed yet. i had a brief overview of "The Hale Family History" in chapter 1, but there is more backstory for both derek and stiles to come.
> 
> [come chat with me?](http://fighthaus.tumblr.com/)


	5. The Madame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content Warnings for this chapter: murder, gun violence, assault, mentions of sex work**

A couple of weeks pass after his night with the blonde, and Derek does his best to forget about her. Then another one of Derek’s past one night stands decides to come back into his life.

Derek spends most of the late afternoon making phone calls, each one of which make him more irritated than the last. Hanging up on the last call he realises that he needs Stiles’ particular skill set to solve the problem he’s facing.

Derek finds Stiles in the gym running on the treadmill. Stiles doesn’t hear Derek approach, and Derek watches the younger man run for a few moments. Stiles is shirtless, wearing only running shorts and sneakers. Stiles is slim, not a lot of bulk, but his muscles were well defined. What really draws Derek’s eyes isn’t Stiles’ boyd, but the scars that cover his back.

There are white starbursts of scar tissue on Stiles’ side and shoulder. They look like old gunshot wounds. There are several small scars that are obviously healed knife wounds. More scars, thin and long, criss-cross Stiles’ back. Derek’s not sure what could have made those marks.

Derek walks further into the room and clears his throat to get Stiles’ attention. Stiles slows the speed on the machine to a gentle walking pace, and then turns to see who’s behind him.

“Hey Derek, what’s up?” Stiles asks, a little breathless. He reaches for a towel, but doesn’t appear to be self conscious about the scars. That makes Derek wonder about them even more.

“Can you meet me in my office when you’re ready?”

“Sure,” Stiles nods. “Just give me a few minutes to towel off and get a shirt.”

“When you’re ready,” Derek repeats, mimicking Stiles’ nod.  

Stiles steps off the treadmill and wipes his face with the towel. Derek doesn’t wait around for Stiles. Instead he leaves the gym and heads back up to his office.

*

When Stiles enters Derek’s office Derek is sitting in his chair, and Erica is standing by his side. They’re both looking over some photos.

“I have the next name for you,” Derek tells Stiles once he’s taken a seat.

“I thought you said a month and a half?” Stiles asks. “It hasn’t been anywhere near that long.  I’m not complaining, I’d rather work. You just seemed pretty sure that you wanted to wait.”

Derek looks at Erica then back at Stiles. “We’ve had an incident that’s made it necessary to skip ahead,” he says.

“What’s happened?” Stiles looks at the photos that are spread across the desk. They are images of an injured woman. Close ups of cuts and bruises printed on glossy paper.  

“Last night two men came into Insatiable,” Erica says. Stiles nods to show that he understands. Insatiable is the Hale’s flagship brothel and Erica is in charge of all the women who work in the brothels. “They posed as John’s and paid for an hour each. Ten minutes into their sessions they started beating two of my best girls.” Erica turns one of the photos around so Stiles can see it better. The woman in the photo has a broken nose, two black eyes, a split lip and bruises across the rest of her face. Erica is calm, but there is a hard edge to her voice. She takes any harm that came to her girls personally.

“We talked to the girls,” Derek continues. “Apparently they had been approached a week earlier. Someone claiming to work for Jennifer Blake.”

“Who’s Jennifer Blake?” Stiles asks. Erica hands him a photo. This one is of an attractive brunette woman in her mid-thirties.  

“Her real name is Julia. She used to work for Deucalion,” Derek says. “Then she came to work for my uncle. However when Peter wouldn’t give her more power she left. She opened up her own brothel. Now she’s trying to poach girls from us.” Derek very deliberately does not mention his personal history with Jennifer.

“This beating was a message,” Erica tells Stiles.

“This is what happens when you say no to Jennifer Blake,” Stiles says. The message is pretty obvious. “Is she a new edition to the list?” He asks. “Or is she someone you’ve always wanted taken out.”

“She’s always been on the list,” Derek confirms. “She was just lower down. We didn’t see her as much of a threat. But over the last few months things have been escalating. These weren’t the first girls she’s tried to take from us. We need to make sure this is stopped. We need to send a message that encroaching on Hale territory won’t be tolerated.”

“I don’t want this to happen to any more of my girls,” Erica says, looking at Derek. “They’re sex workers, not pawns in this game Jennifer is under qualified to play.”

“You’re sure this will solve your problem?” Stiles usually doesn’t question the jobs he is given, but now he’s technically part of the Hale family. If things go bad for them, things go bad for him too. “It’s just in my experience when you cut off the head two more take its place.”

Derek shakes his head. “Jennifer doesn’t have any family backing her up now. She’s burned every bridge she’s ever crossed. The men working for her are hired guns, if she dies and they stop getting paid they’ll go elsewhere. No one will care.”

Stiles nods in understanding. “So you want to send a message,” he says. “Classic hit? Or do you want to get creative again?”

“Let’s keep it simple,” Derek says. “No misunderstandings that this was a hit.”

“Got it.”

“Stiles,” Derek leans over the desk closer to Stiles. “I want this done yesterday.” It’s clear that Derek isn’t kidding around in the slightest.

Stiles nods again. “She’ll be in the morgue before you know it.”

“I know you have your own guns but you should see about replacing them. We don’t want the cops running ballistics and connecting this hit with any of Red’s. You can see Allison about getting something new,” Derek says, leaning back in his seat.

Stiles takes his cue to leave.

*

Stiles finds Allison with Scott in the east living room.

“I need a gun,” he says without preamble.

“Hello Stiles, how are you?” Allison says sarcastically.

“Does Derek know you’re after a gun?” Scott asks

Stiles narrows his eyes. “Do I really need Derek’s permission to get a weapon?”

“If you want one from us then yes,” Scott tells him. He doesn’t sound hostile, just reminding Stiles of the facts.

“Derek gave me another job,” Stiles says. He finds it impossible to be truly mad at Scott. “You can ask him yourself.”

“No need.” Allison says. “Derek already texted me. Come on Stiles.” She stands and strides out of the room.

Stiles follows Allison up to one of the bedrooms in the west wing of the house. Stiles is expecting an empty room similar to the one's he and Lydia moved into. However that’s not what he gets. 

Allison opens the door and reveals a renovated room fitted with shelves and hooks to display weapons. Several varieties of rifles, shotguns, and handguns are hanging on the far wall. Boxes of ammunition sit on metal shelves. 

“So this is what Derek meant by some of the rooms are being used for storage,” Stiles says.

“What type of gun are you looking for?” Allison asks.

“Handgun,” Stiles tells her. “Something with a small calibre is preferable. Silencer is a must.”

“Pistol or Revolver?”

“Pistol,” Stiles decides.

“American or European?”

“You mean Smith and Wesson or Glock?” Stiles smiles. The collection of guns is impressive, but not overly large. 

“Pretty much, yeah,” Allison nods. She returns Stiles’ smile. “Everyone has their own weapons, these are what we have on hand right now for jobs. We’re arming up, but a shipment coming in got caught by cops in Oregon. So we’re waiting on replacements from somewhere else.”

“We don’t have time to wait for a shipment. Derek wants this done right away,” Stiles tells her. “I’m going to try for tonight.” He wants to ask why the Hale’s are arming up, but he has more pressing issues to attend to.

Allison nods again. She picks up the Glock and hands it to Stiles. “See how the Glock feels to you.”

Stiles takes the gun from Allison. He unclips the magazine then checks the chamber. He aims it at the window. It feels good in his hands. It has been a while since Stiles has used a handgun. The last few kills he had made before joining the Hale’s had been done with rifles.

“Nice stance,” Allison says. She puts her hands on his shoulders and corrects him slightly. “Isosceles Stance. I would have pegged you for a Weaver guy. Have you been properly trained?” She asks. The Isosceles Stance is a natural way to stand and it could have been a fluke.

“Yeah,” Stiles says. “I was trained.” He doesn’t offer any more information. Handing the gun back to Allison he says, “let me try the Sigma Smith and Wesson.”

Allison gives him the second gun. Stiles repeats the process of unclipping the magazine and emptying the chamber. Then he resumes his stance. He weighs the gun in his hands and wraps his finger around the trigger to see how it feels.

Stiles hands the Smith and Wesson back to Allison. “I’ll take the Glock.”

“Good choice,” Allison says, as though Stiles is choosing new clothes. “I’ll get you some ammo and the suppressor.”

Allison turns to the shelf, looking for the right caliber. Stiles can hear the boxes of bullets move as Allison shuffles through them.

Derek knocks on the open door as Stiles is loading the bullets into the Glock’s magazine.

“I have her home and work addresses here for you,” Derek says. “If you’re planning on going out tonight.”

“I was going to come find you to get that information when I was done here,” Stiles tells him. “Looks like you bet me to the punch.”

Stiles finishes loading the gun and tucks it into his holster. The gun against his ribs is a familiar weight. He takes the paper Derek holds out to him.

“I have no idea if she’ll be alone,” Derek says. “So be careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

“Lydia tells me otherwise,” Derek counters. “Also: no collateral damage. If she’s not alone wait until she is. Erica told me to tell you that if any of the girls get hurt she’ll come after you herself.”

Stiles nods. “You got it boss. No unnecessary deaths. And tell Erica not to worry about the girls, I’d never hurt any of them. Although if I’m getting shot at I will defend myself.” He pauses. “Do you want the girls unharmed because you want them to come work for you?”

“They will be offered employment when their boss is tragically gunned down,” Derek says. He turns on heel and walks back out of the room. “Come find me when you get back.” He calls back over his shoulder.

“I can’t tell if he likes me or if he hates me,” Stiles muses to Allison.

Allison laughs. “He’s like that with everyone, especially in the beginning. Trust me, if you think you have it rough you should have seen him when I first came into the family.”

“How did that happen?” Stiles asks. He still doesn’t know how Allison and Scott had become an item, and how Allison had left the Argents.

“Tell you what,” Allison says. “You go get this job done tonight and I’ll tell you the whole story.”

“Deal.”

The two of them shake on it. Then Allison hands Stiles the silencer for the Glock.

“Seriously,” Allison says as Stiles is leaving the room. “Be careful.”

“I will be,” Stiles assures her.

*

When possible Stiles prefers to do his work under the cover of night. So It’s nearly midnight when Stiles checks Jennifer Blake’s home. All the lights are off and there’s no car in the driveway or garage. Stiles checks the bedroom windows anyway and finds the house to be completely empty. He drives to where Jennifer’s brothel is located.

On the way there Stiles drives past Insatiable. It’s his first time seeing it in person. The building front is sleek and simple. A small sign with the establishment's name next to the door is the only embellishment. It’s not what Stiles pictures when he thinks of sex work. 

Jennifer’s business isn’t as sleek or new looking. That’s probably because Jennifer doesn’t have the money the Hales do. It’s an old three story home that has been updated and renovated. Stiles parks a block away and walks back to the building. He scales the fence and slips around to the back of the building. Jennifer’s office is on the first floor and it doesn’t take long for Stiles to find a window that looks into it. 

Jennifer is sitting at her desk, her back to the window. Her hair hangs loose down her back, and she’s wearing a white blouse. Stiles can’t see the rest of her outfit from his vantage point. He spots a pack of cigarettes on Jennifer’s desk. There’s no sign of an ashtray in the room. Stiles makes his way back to the back door and spots what he’s looking for right away. An old pot with cigarette butts and ash in it. Stiles grins to himself, all he has to do is wait until Jennifer comes out for a smoke.

Stiles makes a couple more loops around the house. He sees several girls, who obviously work there, and a number of John’s come and go.  He doesn’t see anyone who’s armed. It appears that Jennifer Blake is unguarded tonight. 

Waiting is a crucial part of Stiles’ job, but that doesn’t mean he likes it. He sits in the dark shadows and watches the back door, waiting for it to open. After an hour and a half of waiting the door finally opens. However it’s two of the girls coming out for a smoke, not Jennifer.

The two women stand on the porch in their underwear, the cool night air not bothering them at all. The two of them smoke and compare stories about their John’s.

“Thirty seconds.” One of the women laughs. “He pays hundreds for an hour and a half, spends all this time tying me up with his intricate ass knots. Then only lasts thirty fucking seconds.”

Both women laugh. Stiles has to bite down on his knuckles to stop himself from laughing too.

“I had a guy last week,” the second woman says. “He wanted me to call him daddy and sit in his lap, right? Then, just when we’re getting started, out of nowhere he bursts into tears. Spent the rest of the session crying into my tits. I’ve had guys cry before, but this one really took the cake.”

This time Stiles does let out a noise. Both women freeze and peer out into the dark

“What was that?” the second woman asks.

“Probably that stupid fucking cat again,” the first one says. “It was hanging around earlier. I told Izzy not to feed it or we’d never get rid of it.” She stubs out her cigarette. “Come on, I don’t want to freeze my tits off.”

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want anything to happen to those babies.” The second woman reaches out and flicks her co-workers breast.

The two women walk back into the house, laughing and playfully shoving each other.

Stiles has to wait another two hours before Jennifer appears on the back porch. He silently curses her for not being more addicted to nicotine.

Her cream blouse is matched with a black pencil skirt. She almost looks like she belongs in an office building. Although her fuck-me-pumps pushes the look into ‘porn star’ territory.

Stiles slips out of the shadows, gun drawn.

“Who the fuck are you?” Jennifer demands. She drops her cigarette. In a flash she’s retrieving the gun she has tucked in the back of her skirt. She points her own gun at Stiles. “Get the fuck off my property!”

Stiles isn’t deterred by the sight of her gun. Although he does wonder briefly where she learned to draw it so fast. It isn’t the first time he’s had a gun drawn on him and it certainly won’t be the last. He continues to walk towards her. “The Hale’s say hi,” Stiles tells her.

Jennifer’s eyes widen a fraction. Before she can react further Stiles pulls the trigger on his gun. The bullet flies through the air and hits Jennifer in the head. Stiles has trained hard to be an exceptional shot. 

Stiles holsters his weapon and bends down over Jennifer’s body. He quickly checks for signs of life; just to be certain. It’s amazing what kind of trauma the brain can experience and still survive.

She’s definitely dead.

Stiles straightens up and side steps the pool of blood forming under Jennifer. He makes his way out of the backyard. He’s already in his car by the time one of the girls notices that Jennifer isn’t in her office.

*

Derek’s office is the first place Stiles stops when he arrives back at the estate. He knocks but gets no reply. That’s when he realises that it’s almost 4am. Most of the family are usually still awake and working at this hour; their work is mostly done during the night time hours. However Derek often isn’t in his office after one am, unless there are pressing issues that need his attention. He occasionally goes out to check on things in the wee hours of the night. Stiles doubts that would be the case tonight though.

Stiles makes his way over to the east wing. He can see the light from Derek’s door shining from underneath the closed door. Stiles stops in at his own room to take a piss and remove his jacket and gun. He leaves his own door open before crossing the hall and knocking lightly at Derek’s bedroom door.

Derek answers the door, wearing only wearing a pair of pyjama pants, slung low on his hips. Stiles stops his gaze from lingering on the trail of hair that disappears under the waistband of Derek’s pants.

“How’d it go?” Derek asks.

“Good,” Stiles says. He forces himself to make eye contact. “No problems. No collateral damage. One bullet and she was down.”

Derek nods. “Good. Do you still have the gun?”

“It’s in my room,” Stiles jerks his head over his shoulder towards his open door. “Unless you want me to get rid of it?”

“No,” Derek said. “It won’t be connected back to us. Give it back to Allison and she’ll put it back with the others.” Derek stifles a yawn. “Speaking of guns, I have one for you to carry.” Derek walks back in to his room. “Come in,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.

Stiles steps over the threshold into Derek’s room. He’s been invited into a few of the other bedrooms, but never Derek’s. He’s never even seen the inside of it before. It takes him a moment to tear his eyes away from the muscles of Derek’s back, and the tattoo between his shoulder blades.

Derek’s room is dominated by the king size bed. The frame is made of dark wood and has a matching headboard; the bedside tables and chest of drawers match as well. The white sheets are rumpled and Derek’s laptop sits in the middle of the bed.

Stiles has trained himself to notice the details about situations. He can’t help noticing the details of Derek’s room.

Like the knitted blanket that is neatly folded on the chest at the foot of the bed. Or Derek’s gun sitting on the bedside table; always within reach. Or the picture frames that cover the top of the chest of drawers. Stiles recognises a younger Derek and Cora in some of them.

Derek opens the top drawer and pulls out a gun and some papers. “This is the weapon you’ll be carrying when you leave the house,” he says. “I don’t want you carrying anything that could be connect to Red.”

The gun Derek hands Stiles is another Glock, like the one he had used to kill Jennifer. Stiles takes out the magazine and empties the chamber.

“Keep it clean. Keep it on you,” Derek continues. “Only use it if you have to.”

Stiles nods along to everything Derek says. “I got it, Derek,” he says with a laugh. “No shooting innocent civilians. Just because this is my job doesn’t mean I’m going to go postal.”

“I know it doesn’t,” Derek says. “I just want to make sure you understand. I don’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to the family.”

“I understand,” Stiles assures him. “No one dies without your permission. Or unless I’m defending myself.”

Derek nods. He’s pleased that Stiles understands.  

“Can I ask a question?” Stiles asks.

“Sure?” Derek shrugs. “What do you want to know?”

“Your tattoo, what’s it mean?” The three interlocked spirals on Derek’s back is a symbol Stiles has seen before. It’s on the buildings the Hale’s own. It’s graffitied on street corners where Hale territory begins. 

“It’s a triskele,” Derek says. “The three spirals each represent something, in this case: mother, father, child.”

“Family,” Stiles fills in.

Derek nods. “Go get some sleep Stiles.” Derek’s voice isn’t authoritative like usual, he sounds concerned. “You look exhausted.”

“I did just wait in the bushes for like four hours waiting for Jennifer to come out of the house.”

“Was she at home or the brothel?”

“The brothel. It’s this big turn of the century house that’s been renovated,” Stiles explains. He isn’t sure if Derek has ever seen the brothel or if he only knows the address.

“Good,” Derek nods. “Perfect.”

“I’m going to take a shower. Then I’ll sleep.” The fatigue is starting to set in for Stiles now.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Derek says. “Goodnight.”

“Night.” Stiles gives Derek a small smile then heads out of Derek’s room. He closes the door behind himself.

As he opens his own door he hears Derek lock his bedroom door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope u guys liked the new chapter!!! tell me what you think!!
> 
> im really trying to write more often this year, so if you'd like you can contact me on [tumblr](http://fighthaus.tumblr.com/) and prompt me. if you're unsure of what other ships/fandoms i write for you can check my other works on here, or shoot me a message and i can make you a list.


	6. The Star Crossed Lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry this is a day late. life is pretty hectic here at the moment. 
> 
> this weeks chapter is very dialogue heavy, and may be a bit slow. but Allison promised to tell Stiles about her and Scott, so you're getting that backstory. (i honestly forgot i even wrote this chapter. i debated cutting it out, but listen i spent weeks figuring out how the history between the hales and the argents would work in this au, so it stays)

Stiles sleeps for most of the next day. It’s 3 pm when he finally rolls out of bed.

He decides to wander around the house for a while. It really is ridiculously big. One day he’ll sit someone down who knows the history of the house and make them tell him the whole story.

Eventually he gets hungry and heads back to the kitchen. He finds Allison, Boyd, and Cora sitting around the kitchen table. Stiles wonders if the house is ever really empty. Derek had said he was the only one who lived there permanently, but it doesn’t seem like he’s ever alone.

The coffee maker is on and Stiles pours himself a mug. He sits down at the table with the others, who are in the middle of a conversation.

“I’m telling you,” Cora says. “It’s a good investment.”

“I’m not denying that,” Boyd tells her. “I just think we should wait until after the new brothel is open before we open a second club.”

“Even if it’s not a success, it’s not like it’s going to have a huge impact on our bottom line for the quarter,” Cora counters. “Eclipse is bringing in enough money to cover all the initial costs.”

“Fine,” Boyd concedes. “Now you just have to convince your brother.”

“Don’t worry,” Cora grins. “Once he knows you’re on board he’ll give his okay.”

“Are you buying a new club?” Stiles asks. The pieces are easy enough to put together. It is odd to hear them discuss these things as though they’re legitimate business moves.  

Cora nods. “There’s this one that’s going out of business. I think we can buy it, turn it around, and probably make it as successful as Eclipse.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Stiles says. He’s not business savvy, but anything that equals more money is probably a good plan. 

“By the way, Stiles,” Boyd turns his attention away from Cora. “Good job last night.”

“Thanks.” Stiles tips his mug towards Boyd. Then he turns to Allison. “So Allison, I believe we had a deal. I want to know the story between you and Scott.”

“And I’m out,” Boyd says, rising to his feet. “I lived through this, I don’t need to hear it again.”

“Bye, Boyd,” Allison says. There’s no hint of annoyance or embarrassment in her voice.

“Come on, Boyd.” Cora stands as well. “Let’s go find Derek and we can talk to him about the new club.”

Boyd nods and leads Cora out of the room. He’d rather talk to Derek about another business investment than listen to the story of Allison and Scott’s great love affair again.

“Everyone seems to really hate talking about you and Scott,” Stiles says once he and Allison are alone.

Allison shrugs. “Not everyone hates talking about it. But it wasn’t a very good time. I guess it brings up bad memories. Plus they’re all cold hearted assholes who hate romance.” She raises her voice for the last part. Boyd grunts from the hallway and Allison smiles. 

“How’d you meet Scott?” Stiles asks.

“It was just after Scott joined the Hale’s. Peter brought him on, kind of in the same role he has now, but Peter kept a lot from him. We met in this bar downtown. It ‘s one my family, the Argents, own. Scott didn’t know that though, he thought he was just keeping an eye on a man who owed Peter money. I was waiting for a meeting my grandfather and dad was in to finish. Scott and I started talking at the bar. He didn’t know I was an Argent, and I didn’t know he was with the Hales. We clicked instantly.” Allison smiles fondly at the memory.

“What happened when you found out?” 

Stiles genuinely doesn’t know anything about this part of the Hale/Argent saga. Having never worked closely with either family before, he only knows the barebones of a feud that dates back decades. 

“Scott came back to the bar to see me about two weeks later. My dad is the one who recognised Scott. They’d been doing surveillance on the Hale’s and had seen Scott with Peter and Derek. Dad told me who he was and warned me to never see him again. But I was already in love. As it turned out Scott already knew I was an Argent by that point, but he still wanted to see me. We kept seeing each other in secret. Then my grandfather found out.”

“I bet Gerard wasn’t too happy.”

“So you know the stories about my grandfather?” Allison asks. She’s not smiling anymore. Gerard Argent is never a nice topic of conversation. 

Stiles nods. “Of course I do. You can’t work in this business without learning about Gerard Argent. He-” he pauses. He decides Allison doesn’t need to know what he’s thinking. “It doesn’t matter, continue with your story.”

“Gerard, he, uh.” Allison fiddles with her necklace. She looks past Stiles, staring at some point over his left shoulder.  “He tried to have Scott killed. The hit got messed up though and Peter found out. Up until then Peter hadn’t known that Scott and I were together, but when Scott got shot he’d told Peter everything. Peter wasn’t as angry as we thought he would be. Derek was the one who got pissed but I think that’s because –” Allison stops suddenly and looks back at Stiles. “Do you know about Kate?”

“Kate?” Stiles shakes his head. He knows lots of Kate’s, but none that might be connected personally to Derek. 

Allison chews on her bottom lip. “I’m not going to tell you.” She decided. “That’s something Derek can tell you if he wants you to know.” She pauses to remember where she was up to. “Anyway, Derek was pissed. Peter was more amused than anything. Gerard wanted Scott and the rest of the Hale’s dead. Gerard and I had a fight. I ended leaving that night. I told Gerard that if he wanted to get to Scott he’d have to go through me first.”

“You just left?” Stiles can understand why someone may not want to be associated with the Argents. 

Allison shakes her head. “It was hard. It was something that had been coming for a long time though,” she explains. “This was just the last straw. You have to understand Derek’s tough and can be cold. Peter was terrible and cruel to an extent. Gerard though…Gerard’s a whole different breed of evil. The hit’s he orders aren’t just quick deaths; he likes to see people tortured. I don’t mean that figuratively; he literally likes to watch people being tortured. After I left, Scott brought me here.”

She’s interrupted by footsteps approaching the kitchen. Both Allison and Stiles look up to see who it is.

“What’s going on?” Liam asks. He stops in the doorway, frozen in place by Allison and Stiles staring at him. 

“I’m telling Stiles about Scott and me,” Allison explains.

“Oh,” Liam says, sitting at the table with them. “I like this story. Where are we up to?”

Allison smiles at Stiles. “See, I told you not everyone hates hearing about us.” She turns to Liam. “I’m up to my first night here.”

Liam nods and Stiles clears his throat. “So Peter let you in, just like that?” Stiles asks.

“I had information about Gerard’s plans, about his businesses,” Allison continues. “Peter let me in because he wanted to use me against Gerard. My first night here Derek cornered me, he told me not to tell Peter anything.”

“Why?”

“He didn’t say. But two days later the mutiny happened and it all clicked. Derek had been planning it for months and he didn’t want Peter to leave with any useful information. I thought that Derek was going to kick me out along with Peter, but he let me stay. After Peter was out I went to Derek and told him I’d help in any way I could. Derek still doesn’t totally trust me, but he’s working on it. We both are.”

“He trusts you way more than he used to,” Liam confirms. “A couple of months ago he never would have let you go to a meeting like the one you had with the Everett’s.”

The smile Allison gives Liam lights up her whole face. The relationship she and Derek have is difficult and complicated. But she’s as loyal to the family as any of the others.

“And that’s the whole story,” Allison says.

“You should write a book,” Stiles tells her. “Market it as fiction and make a killing.”

Allison laughs. It’s a bright sound that fills the room. Stiles realises how much he’s missed being around people laughing and talking all the time. He loves spending time with Lydia, but they still fight and can get on each other’s’ nerves. It’s nice being surrounded by other people.

“Anyway,” Allison says. “What were you going to say about Gerard earlier?”

Stiles shakes his head and gives her the best smile he can manage. “It doesn’t matter,” he says. “I was just going to ramble on about the stories I’ve heard.”

Stiles figures that Allison doesn’t need to know Gerard had tried to hire him for a job. A job he had turned down because he had a higher paying gig at the time. The job, Stiles had realised, must have been Scott’s hit. The time line matched up. Except when Gerard had tried to make arrangements with Red, it had been for two hits. A man and a woman matching Scott and Allison’s descriptions. No, Allison definitely doesn’t need to know that. Stiles is going to take that information to the grave.

*

Stiles is able to ignore the realisation he had come to while talking with Allison. It’s easy for him pretend that he hadn’t come close to accepting a job that would have resulted in Allison and Scott’s deaths. However he isn’t able to ignore the comment about Derek and a woman named Kate as easily. He’s self aware to know that his preoccupation with Derek will only lead to trouble for him. That doesn’t mean Stiles stops thinking about it. For two weeks it’s the only thing on his mind. 

Finally Stiles catches Derek alone. The man is almost constantly surrounded by people or too busy to talk. He decides to take the opportunity to ask since he doesn’t know when he’ll get another chance.

Derek is in the kitchen making coffee one afternoon; he’s dressed casually in dark jeans and a Henley. He looks like he’s barely slept, but that’s his usual state of being these days. It’s been getting worse since the night at Eclipse. 

“Can I ask you something?” Stiles asks.

“Sure,” Derek nods. He’s adding sugar to his coffee and Stiles finds it amusing that Derek likes it so sweet.

“Allison told me about her and Scott,” Stiles starts.

Derek snorts. “Quite a story, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees. “She mentioned that you were angry when you first found out, because of a woman named Kate.” Stiles notices the way Derek tenses at the mention of the name. “I was wondering who Kate is?”

Derek doesn’t answer him. He picks up his coffee and heads out of the kitchen. Usually Stiles would accept this as a dismissal and drop the subject. After two weeks of stewing though he’s not going to let up so easily. He follows Derek out of the kitchen. 

They walk side by side down the hallways of the house for a few minutes. They’re not heading to Derek’s office, or his bedroom. Derek doesn’t appear to have a destination in mind.

The silence is broken by Derek sighing. “Have you asked anyone else about this?”

“No,” Stiles says. “Allison said you’d tell me if you wanted me to know.” He had considered asking the others. If Allison know the others are bound to know as well. But he had decided against it in the end.

Derek stops and leans against the wall a few feet in front of Stiles. He doesn’t look at Stiles. “A few of the others know already. It’s not like it’s the best kept secret. The Kate that Allison mentioned is her aunt, Kate Argent.” It’s been a long time since Derek had been with Kate. It still hurts to think about it, and he thinks it always will. The pain isn’t as sharp as it used to be, it’s more of a dull ache whenever someone mentions her name. The anger however, that is still sharp and visceral. He doesn’t blame Stiles for bringing it up. He’s honestly surprised that Stiles doesn’t already know the story. Especially considering everything else he does know about the families of Beacon Hills.

“Argent?” Stiles can’t help the surprised expression that graces his features. He’s heard of Kate Argent, but never in his wildest dreams would he have thought to make the connection. In the two weeks of thinking about it he’d never considered Derek would know Kate as more than a rival family member. 

Derek nods. “Scott wasn’t the first one of us to fall into bed with an Argent,” he says. “I was a lot younger then, back when Kate and I met. She was older than me, and I had no idea who she was.” Derek takes a sip of his coffee. He’s quiet for several minutes to collect his thoughts. “Not until it was too late.”

“What happened?” Stiles asks.

“She used me for information.” Derek’s tone is casual but his shoulders are tense. “The Argent’s ended up using the information she got from me. That’s how my parent’s were murdered. That’s how Peter was hurt, why he was in the hospital when Laura took over.”

“Is her name on your list?” Stiles asks.

Derek laughs into his coffee. It’s a hollow sound, not a real laugh. “You’ll have to wait and see.” Derek pushes himself off of the wall and walks past Stiles, back the way they came. He hip checks Stiles lightly on the way past. 

Stiles is too overwhelmed by the sudden influx of information to go after him. He’s left standing in the middle of the hallway, reeling and trying to process what he’d just heard. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love it? hate it? let me know bc i need validation and feedback. u can also yell at me on [tumblr](http://fighthaus.tumblr.com/) if u prefer


	7. The Gambler

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a little on the short side, so, sorry for that. but at least im uploading on time this week, that has to count for something, right?

While Stiles appreciates having steady work that pays exceptionally well, he does wish the actual jobs were more regular. After Stiles finds out about Kate he and Derek barely talk for a week. That isn’t too unusual in itself. But paired with the fact that Derek hasn’t given him a new job yet, Stiles is left feeling bored. He’s hanging upside down off his bed, a book in hand, when there’s a knock at his door.

Stiles pulls himself up and rolls off the bed to answer the door. He’s only a little surprised to see Derek standing in the doorway. Most of the family aren’t home, and those who are would have no reason to be knocking on his door at 8 o’clock at night. 

Stiles is expecting Derek to say that he has another name for Stiles. He’s hoping for it really. He needs something to do. Derek is as unpredictable as ever though. 

“I was wondering if you wanted to come on a job with Boyd and me tonight.”

Stiles crosses his arms and leans against the door frame. “What kind of job?” This isn’t what he had in mind when he said he needed something to do. 

“I’m owed some money, quite a bit of money, and we’re going to find out why I haven’t been paid yet,” Derek explains.

Stiles nods thoughtfully. “I told you I’m not a guard dog or a message boy.” Stiles and Derek may be more friendly now. They may trust each other and share more. That doesn't mean that Stiles is prepared to roll over for Derek on command though. Being antagonistic and contrary in the face of authority is in his nature; it’s a hard habit to shake.

“I wasn’t asking you to be either,” Derek says. “But I do want to integrate you and Lydia into the day to day workings of the family. If you understand how we run our business then if I need you to help with something you’ll be able to jump in.”

“What makes you think I’ll  _ jump in  _ and help you with anything?” Stiles asks. “I’m here to do a specific job.”

Derek invades Stiles’ personal space; his face is only inches from Stiles’, but Stiles doesn’t back down.

“You’ll do it because I ask you to,” Derek whispers. Stiles’ can feel Derek’s hot breath on his face. He tries not to focus on it too much.

“Oh yeah?” Stiles quirks an eyebrow. His and Derek’s noses are all but touching.

“Wear a suit,” Derek says. “Be in the garage in fifteen minutes.”

Derek pulls back abruptly. Then turns on heel and walks away down the hall. Stiles scoffs loudly.

Stiles is in garage ten minutes later.

*

Once the three men are driving away from the estate, Stiles is silent for all of five minutes. He’s sitting in the back, while Boyd drives, and Derek sits in the passenger seat.

“So why are you coming?” Stiles asks Derek, leaning through the gap in the front seats. “Shaking down some small time crook doesn’t seem like your normal type of deal.”

“Sometimes it’s good to do these things myself,” Derek doesn’t look at Stiles as he speaks. “It’s good to remind people who’s actually in charge.”

There are a few moments of silence while they drive through the dark streets. At regular intervals the bright street lights illuminate the interior of the car. The yellow light sweeps over the three men before leaving them in darkness again until the next light. Stiles is the one to break the silence.

“So,” Stiles says. “What exactly do you want us to do?”

“I want you to stand behind me and be quiet,” Derek tells him. “Just watch.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “I really don’t think I’m going to learn anything new.”

“Do you think if I slam the brakes on and he hits the windshield he’ll stop talking?” Boyd asks Derek.

“If he’s still talking on the way back you can test that theory,” Derek says. “We don’t have time right now.”

“Rude,” Stiles mutters, slumping back in his seat and crossing his arms.

Although he is quiet for the rest of the ride.

The restaurant they park in front of is an unassuming place. It looks clean and inviting; definitely not the type of place one would think owed money to mobsters.

The sign on the front door claims that they are closed, but the door is unlocked. Derek strides in, with Boyd and Stiles following behind him. An employee who is mopping the floor looks up in shock.

He can’t be any older than 17 and looks confused and frightened by the appearance of the three men. He stammers his way through his words. “I’m sorry, Gentlemen, but we’re closed-”

“It’s okay,” Derek interrupts. “We’re here to see your boss. He should be expecting us.

The three men never stop moving and the employee calls after them. “You can’t go back there!”

Derek isn’t deterred and enters the employee’s only area. When they reach the manager’s office Derek tries the handle but finds it to be locked. Derek steps back and without a word Boyd slams his shoulder into the door; easily breaking the lock.

“Hi Bobby,” Derek greets, walking into the room. He’s grinning broadly and manages to make it look like a threat.

The man sitting behind the desk is startled, he starts blabbering. “Look I know I said I’d pay by last week but I had a setback. My luck hasn’t been so great.” The man stands. Boyd walks over behind the desk and puts his hand on the older man’s shoulder, forcing him to sit again.

“When you spoke to my associate last week you said you’d have the money for us,” Derek says.

“I know. I know. Look, fellas, I will get you the money. I promise.”

Derek reaches into his coat and pulls out his gun. At the sight of the weapon Bobby’s face goes even whiter. Derek leans over the desk and puts the muzzle of his gun under Bobby’s jaw.

“Okay!” Bobby throws his hands up. “I have half of it!”

Derek withdraws his gun just enough so Bobby can lean over and open the top drawer of his desk. Bobby pulls out a wad of folded bills, held together with a rubber band. Boyd takes the cash from Bobby and quickly flips through it. When he’s satisfied that it’s around the right amount he nods at Derek.

Derek pulls back and re-holsters his weapon. He runs a hand through his hair and looks at Bobby.

“You’ve never done this to us before Bobby,” Derek says. “You’ve always paid us on time. So I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt. You have five days to get me the rest of my money. If you don’t have it your brains are going to be painting the wall behind you.”

Bobby nods wildly. Derek nods to Boyd and walks out of the room. Stiles follows. Neither of them look back when they hear the sound of Boyd’s fist connecting with Bobby’s face.

Stiles and Derek exit the restaurant, walking past the shellshocked employee on their way out. It’s cold outside in the parking lot. Stiles crosses his arms and stuffs his hands under his armpits to keep them warm. They only have to wait a few moments before Boyd exits the restaurant as well and joins them. 

In the car Boyd hands Derek the wad of cash and Derek starts to count it.

“What would you have done if he didn’t have any money to give you?” Stiles asks.

Neither Derek nor Boyd answer him.

“Look,” Stiles says. “If you want to drag me along to these things, so I can learn, the least you can do is answer my questions.”

Derek sighs. “Bobby Finstock is a gambler. He  _ always _ has cash on him in case he wants to go place a bet. He’s not a terrible gambler, but he does like to pretend he’s a high roller.” Derek twists in his seat to look at Stiles. “The point of tonight was to show you how I pay attention to who I’m making deals with. How I twist that to my advantage and manipulate people.”

“Do you think he’ll have the rest of the money by next week?” Stiles asks.

Derek shrugs. “If he doesn’t you’ll be making a trip back here solo.”

Stiles thinks about what Derek had said. He’s known since they met Derek isn’t stupid. Derek’s shown over and over again that he knows what he’s doing in terms of business. Hearing Derek openly call what he does  _ manipulation _ is new though. 

“So is that-”

Stiles never gets to finish his next question. Boyd brakes hard and Stiles slams into the back of Boyd’s seat.

Both Derek and Boyd laugh.

“You’re both assholes,” Stiles says. He’s not hurt. At least not physically, his pride may be a little wounded. He sits back in is seat and doesn’t say anything for the rest of the ride home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just so y'all are aware im absolutely going to link to my [tumblr](http://fighthaus.tumblr.com/) in every chapter just on the off chance one of u decides to come and talk to me


	8. The Journalist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **content warnings for this chapter: murder, gun violence**
> 
> lmao i almost forgot to upload this. we're moving this weekend so i spent all night cleaning and packing again. im so tired, i didnt get this edited as thoroughly as i would have liked, so i hope its okay

Stiles is surprised by how much he likes the normal, domestic things that come along with living in the mansion. He’s not used to normal or domestic. He never thought he would have anything close to it again. Of course the Hale’s aren’t really normal, nor are they domestic by most standards. However there is an order to the chaos in the mansion. While Stiles loathes predictability for himself, there are certain aspects that have become routine, which can be nice.

Almost everyone makes their own meals, but they still find themselves sitting down to eat at around the same times. Malia in particular was pleased to learn Stiles can cook. She’s requested several times that he cook enough for multiple people.

Stiles is sitting at the table after cooking himself, Malia, Lydia, and Scott a meal, when Derek and Cora come in. Derek looks around the table at everyone who is seated. It’s been a busy day, more people are around than usual. Danny and Jackson sit at one end of the table discussing something when Derek interrupts them. 

“Danny, good you’re still here,” Derek says.

“Yeah,” Danny puts down his fork. “What’s going on?”

“I need you and Stiles to come with us to my office.” Derek pauses and considers the others at the table. “Isaac, you come too,” he says after a moment.

The three nod and stand to follow Derek and Cora. Stiles is slightly disappointed that his food will no doubt be cold when he gets back. That, or Malia will have eaten it.

Once they’re all in Derek’s office, the door shut tightly behind them, Derek speaks again.

“We have a problem,” he says. “This Matt Daehler thing is more of an issue than we first thought.”

“Who?” Stiles asks. From the looks he receives he realises he’s the only one who doesn’t know who Matt Daehler is.

“Matt Daehler,” Cora sighs, “is a freelance journalist. He’s won a couple of local awards for writing but nothing really huge. Lately he’s been coming into Eclipse, bugging my staff, trying to get interviews with me. Basically he’s been an all-around nuisance.”

“He’s figured out that we’re running drugs and money through the club,” Derek continues for his sister. “We knew he was writing some kind of expose on the club,” Derek shakes his head. “I don’t know, the kid thinks he can bring everything crashing down with one article. We didn’t think he had anything solid, at least not until last night.”

“What happened last night?” Danny asks.

“He showed up at Eclipse again and demanded to see me. I finally agreed, hoping that if I did he would go away,” Cora says. “It turns out he’s been doing his own surveillance on the club. He has some pretty damning photos, as well as sound recordings.”

“So you need him taken care of,” Stiles says..

Both the Hale siblings nod. “But we need more than Matt to be dead,” Derek says. “That’s why you’re going to take Danny along with you. We need to destroy everything Matt has on us; all the photos and audio clips.”

“I can just grab his laptop and phone?” Stiles offers.

Derek closes his eyes and takes a deep breath while Danny chuckles.

“The first things the cops will notice is a missing laptop and phone,” Danny says. “And before you ask, no, you can’t just wipe all the data, the cops will notice that too.”

“Danny’s the best with computers,” Derek tells Stiles. “He’ll go in with you and get rid of all the information relating to us.”

“What part am I playing in all of this?” Isaac asks.

“They’re going to need a car,” Derek says. “We can’t use any of the ones we have here in case Matt notices them and recognises the car as one of ours.”

“What if he recognises me or Danny?” Stiles asks.

“Danny’s day job means he’s probably not on Matt’s radar. You’re still new enough that there’s a chance Matt hasn’t connected you with the business. Especially since you haven’t spent too much time at Eclipse,” Derek says. Then he turns back to Isaac. “Do you have any cars that could work? The older and lower model the better.”

Isaac thinks for a moment. He and Malia are in business of stealing cars and chopping them for parts or selling them whole. They don’t deal in lower end models, and they prefer new cars. “There’s one car,” he says. “It’s due to be chopped first thing in the morning, but I’ll make a call and have it put aside.”

Derek nods. He leans forward, across the desk, his hands folded neatly on the wood. “I need this done quickly and done right,” he says. “There is absolutely no room for error.”

Stiles and Danny look at each other. “We’ve got this,” Stiles says. Danny nods in agreement.

*

“I hate waiting,” Stiles complains. He drops his head back against the headrest of the car seat.

He and Danny are parked down the street from Matt’s apartment building. They’re waiting for the journalist to return home.

Danny rolls his eyes and doesn’t say anything.

“So,” Stiles looks at Danny out of the corner of his eye. “How did you get mixed up with the Hale’s anyway?”

“I got arrested for hacking into a bank’s security system,” Danny says. He keeps his eyes fixed on the road ahead of them. 

“Seriously?” Stiles laughs. “You were a bank robber?”

Danny laughs too and shakes his head. “No. I was just bored. I only hacked it to see if I could. Anyway, the cops didn’t have enough to make the charges stick, I’m careful about covering my tracks, and they let me go. Parrish was one of the arresting officers, he told Derek about my talents. The next thing I knew I was being summoned to a meeting with  _ the _ Derek Hale. I’ve been with them since.”

“Derek seems to have a habit of trusting people who he barely knows,” Stiles muses.

Danny laughs again. “Trusting people and bringing them on for jobs isn’t the same thing. It was easier with me since I already knew Jackson. We went to college together, so Jackson vouched for me when Derek was thinking about bringing me on board. Derek’s better at reading people than he used to be, at least that’s what the others say. Cora, Scott, Erica, Boyd and Isaac have known him the longest. They were the ones that were around when Peter was still in charge. I suppose he trusts them, since they’re the ones he let stay when he excommunicated Peter.” Danny finishes with a shrug.

The two men lapse into silence and continue to watch the street for Matt. Every now and again Stiles glances at the photo they have of Matt. As if the image of the man’s face isn’t burned into Stiles’ memory already.

After what feels like eons to Stiles, Matt finally appears at the other end of the street. He’s dressed in jeans and a blazer, a laptop bag slung over his shoulder. Stiles and Danny wait until Matt enters his apartment building before they get out of the car.

It’s an inexpensive apartment building, so no doorman, and Stiles and Danny don’t need to be buzzed in. They walk through the lobby and take the stairs up to Matt’s floor.

Stiles knocks on the door and hears Matt’s voice call out from inside.

“Just a minute!”

Matt opens the door fully. Stiles has to stop himself from rolling his eyes; the man is  _ asking  _ for trouble doing that.

“Hey, Matt, right?” Stiles asks, shooting him a toothy grin.

“Yeah?” Matt looks at Stiles and Danny suspiciously. “Who are you?”

“I believe you know some friends of ours,” Stiles says, the grin never leaving his face.

Matt’s backing up and closing the door, but it’s already too late. Stiles has his gun out and presses it into Matt’s stomach, pushing the other man back into the apartment. Matt trips backwards over a stack of folders. As he falls he grabs onto Stiles’ arm, and Stiles goes down with him. Danny snorts and closes the door behind them, making sure to lock it.

Stiles is quick to regain his composure. He kneels above Matt and presses the barrel of his gun against Matt’s head.

“Look.” Matt’s panicking. “I don’t know who you are. Just take whatever you want. I have cash in my wallet.”

“Where’s the laptop?” Danny asks from above Matt and Stiles.

“On my desk,” Matt says. “It’s an older model, you won’t get much money for it.” The desk in question is next to the window, behind the old couch.

Danny ignores Matt’s rambling. “Where’s your phone?”

“Charging on the kitchen counter.”

Danny moves through the apartment to retrieve the phone. Then he returns to sit at the desk.  

“Neither of these are password protected,” Danny says to Stiles. “You do your job and I’ll do mine.”

“You are a  _ terrible  _ journalist,” Stiles tells Matt.

Matt swallows thickly. “You’re with the Hale’s,” he says. “I’ve seen you at Eclipse.”

“Okay, so maybe you’re just a  _ bad _ journalist,” Stiles corrects himself. “Either way you got in over your head, buddy.”

Stiles stands up. Matt shuffles backwards, not looking away from the gun that’s still pointed at him.

“What are you doing?” Danny demands. “Just fucking shoot him!”

“Shut up tech boy and let me do my job,” Stiles snaps. 

Stiles shoots Matt once in the leg. He pauses a moment longer than he needs to to see the way Matt's face contorts in pain. Everyone reacts to being shot differently. Matt shouts, more in shock than pain and clutches at his leg. Stiles shoots him twice more. Once in the stomach, then finally once in the chest. The last two shots are fired in rapid succession, the sound and muzzle flash reduced by the silencer. Stiles kneels down beside Matt, careful to avoid the rapidly expanding pool of blood. 

Matt isn't dead yet. The blood from the wounds in his chest and abdomen fill his chest cavity, suffocating him. He chokes and tries to make noise. He tries to move. But it's already too late. Even if Stiles was inclined to call an ambulance, Matt would be dead before Stiles got his phone out of his pocket. 

Stiles kneels above Matt and watches him until the light goes out of his eyes.

“Holy shit,” Danny breaths.

Stiles ignores the comment and stands.“Wipe the info then we’ll take the laptop and phone with us,” he tells Danny.

Danny turns back to the laptop in front of him. “Why?” He asks when he manages to find his words again. “Derek already told us not to bother with-” He turns around again when there’s a crash from behind him. “What are you  _ doing _ ?” Stiles had knocked over one of the side tables.

“You and Derek seem to forget that I’ve done this before.” Stiles pulls Matt’s wallet out of his pocket. He takes the cash and cards, then tosses the wallet back onto the ground. “I’m staging it as a robbery,” Stiles explains. He moves into the bedroom, returning shortly after with a watch and more cash.

“If Derek wanted it to look like a robbery he would have let you take the laptop and phone.”

“I’m not risking my reputation because Derek doesn’t know how to handle this. If he wants me to do jobs he needs to understand I know what I’m doing.” Stiles holds up the watch to his ear. The second hand isn’t moving. “I figured Matt might have mentioned something about a big story to someone. To a friend or editor,” he continues. “We take the laptop and phone and make sure they’re pawned to a local store, somewhere that’s easy for the cops to find. When the cops recover them they’ll find no evidence of any crime related stories. The robbery angle will be the only plausible explanation.”

“That’s – that’s actually pretty smart,” Danny says. He doesn't add that Stiles is also kinda scary. 

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

Stiles sits down and starts going through the stacks of papers Matt has. In case there are physical copies of the photos, or if he has taken notes that aren’t on the laptop. Stiles makes sure to put all the papers back in their right folders. Then he spreads them out as if someone had been looking for more things to steal.

Matt may have been a good investigator, but his security skills were lacking. There’s no encryption on any of the files on his laptop or phone. His passwords to his online accounts are conveniently saved. It doesn’t take Danny long to search through everything and wipe anything relating to the Hales.

Stiles and Danny leave Matt’s apartment building with as little attention as they had entering it. Danny is quiet on the way home, staring out the window of the car as Stiles drives.

“I’m guessing you don’t see a lot of hits, right?” Stiles asks.

Danny shakes his head. “Most of my work is done in front of computer screens. I carry a gun because Derek wants all of us to.”

“Do you know how to use it?” Stiles takes his eyes off the road momentarily to look at Danny.

“Yeah,” Danny says. “But that doesn’t mean I want to use it. I guess I’m like Derek that way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Derek carries a gun and uses them because in this kind of business we have to protect ourselves. But I’ve heard him say more than once, if he didn’t feel the need to defend himself he wouldn’t carry one at all.”

*

Derek’s in the kitchen when Stiles and Danny get back to the house. He looks up, expectant, and waits for the two younger men to speak.

“It’s done,” Stiles says. He doesn’t miss the sigh of relief Derek breathes at the news.

“He’s dead?” Derek asks because he needs to hear it said out loud. 

“He's dead,” Stiles confirms. “Three shots. One to the leg. Two to centre mass.” He says it matter of factly, without flinching. 

“He saw it coming,” Danny adds. He's not sure why he adds it, but he feels like he should. 

“Sometimes it's better when they do,” Stiles says with a shrug. 

Danny doesn't know how to respond, so he stares at Stiles. Derek, too tired and too stressed to hide his emotions, looks surprised for a moment. Then he schools his features again. 

This is what Stiles does for a living after all. This is why Derek had hired him. He's a murderer. 

Danny looks from Stiles to Derek, eager to get back on topic. “All the data has been wiped. We even went through the hard copies of Matt’s work.” He holds up the folder he has “These are all the copies he had.”

Danny passes the folder to Derek who nods. “I’ll shred these,” Derek says.

Stiles hands over the laptop and phone as well. He explains his plan to make it look like a robbery. Derek is silent for a few moments, then he nods in agreement with the plan. 

“That will work. I’ll organise someone to take care of the laptop and phone.”

Derek walks out of the kitchen, the folder and electronics clutched tight in his hands. He leaves his coffee sitting on the counter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls come talk to me on [tumblr](http://fighthaus.tumblr.com/)


	9. The Number

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao im finally back. im so sorry that it's been so long since my last update. it took over a month for us to get internet connected after moving, and since then ive been dealing with some intense personal stuff, so writing had to take a back seat. 
> 
> i should be able to get back on a regular uploading schedule now though. 
> 
> i also wish i could have returned with a more interesting chapter, but this is what we're up to. this is a little bit of a filler before the plot starts moving again

“How many people have you killed?”

Stiles freezes. He wasn't expecting the question. 

“Do you really want to know?” He deflects. 

Derek is quiet. He runs a finger across a mark on the edge of his desk. 

“No,” Derek says finally. “I don’t think I do.”

The number is on the tip of Stiles’ tongue. He could easily tell Derek how many people he’s killed. He remembers all of them. 

“Are you bored here?” Derek asks. 

Stiles blinks. He’s not following Derek’s train of thought. “No?” He pauses. “Do you mean right this moment or in general?”

“In general,” Derek says. 

“No,” Stiles says again, more confident this time. “Why?”

“I told you when I hired you work would be spaced out,” Derek says. “Are you still okay with that?” 

“I wouldn’t have agreed to the terms if I wasn’t okay with them,” Stiles tells him. “Besides, it’s only been like two weeks since Matt.” 

That’s the reason they’re in Derek’s office in the first place. Parrish had called with an update on the investigation.

Matt’s murder made the news, but with no leads for the police to follow and the case stagnating, public interest had already started to fizzle out. 

“I know it’s only been two weeks,” Derek says. “But Jennifer and Matt happened much closer together than anticipated. The plan is to go quiet for a while. I wanted to make sure you'll be okay if you're just sitting on your hands for a couple of months.”

Stiles shifts in his seat. He takes a moment to process Derek's words. 

“I’m not going to get trigger happy if I don't kill someone for a few months,” he says. “I'll find other ways to occupy my time if I need to.”

Derek opens his mouth but Stiles speaks again before he can get a word out. 

“Non murder related ways.” He pushes his chair back and stands up. “You don't have to worry about me. I agreed to a contract. I'm working exclusively for the Hale's for as long as you keep paying me.”

Derek nods along to what Stiles says. “You’re not going to kill anyone unless I give the order,” he says bluntly. 

Stiles braces himself against the edge of the desk. He stares Derek down. He's quiet for a few moments and Derek isn't sure he's going to say anything. 

“I'm not going to kill anyone unless you give the order,” Stiles repeats finally. 

Derek nods again. That's all he needed to hear. 

Stiles pushes himself away from the desk. He turns his back on Derek then pauses. “Thirty two,” he says. “Including Harris, Jennifer, and Matt. I usually average four jobs a year. I don’t  _ need _ to do this.” He makes his way to the door before stopping again. “I’ve only killed one man I wasn’t paid to murder, and that was in self defense.” He twists the doorknob and pulls the door open sharply. He takes a breath to say something else, then changes his mind. 

Derek stays quiet as Stiles exits the room, closing the door behind him. 

*

Stiles isn’t angry at Derek. They were reasonable questions for him to ask. After all Derek doesn’t know anything about his past, about how he got into this business or why he does what he does. He can’t blame Derek for trying to cover his bases and attempting to minimise any potential problems. 

Still, he doesn’t like being accused of being a blood thirsty killer who can’t control himself. He needs to take some time out and calm down. 

From Derek’s office he heads back to his room. Throwing some clothes in a bag and grabbing the keys to the jeep he resolves to stay at his apartment for a few days. Some time away from the mansion will be good for him and everyone else. 

*

A few days turns into a week and a half before Stiles realises it. Derek doesn’t call or text him the entire time he’s gone. It’s not surprising since Derek said the plan was to go quiet. The lack of contact still annoys Stiles more than it should though. 

Upon his arrival back at the estate Stiles doesn’t see anyone. No one is in the kitchen or in the living rooms Stiles passes by. Derek isn’t in his office or his bedroom. 

It’s the start of spring and a nice enough day, so Stiles decides to go and wander around the expansive gardens. He’s spent a bit of time in them, Lydia had dragged him around them during their first week in the house, but the gardens are still a novelty. Stiles knows that Derek has gardeners that come out every week to tend to the lawns and garden beds.

He’s walking through the roses when he spots Derek sitting on one of the low stone benches. Derek’s dressed in his usual white shirt – with his sleeves rolled up – and black slacks. Derek has his back to Stiles and doesn’t hear him approaching. Stiles is surprised to see smoke curling around Derek’s head.

“You smoke?” Stiles asks when he’s within a few feet of Derek. As he gets closer Stiles realises that Derek’s barefoot.

Derek jumps and turns to see who’s speaking. He relaxes a fraction when he sees it’s Stiles. “Oh, you’re back,” he says. “I thought you might be Boyd looking for me.”

Stiles closes the last few feet between him and Derek. He sits on the bench that’s opposite Derek. He looks at Derek properly and notices that it isn’t a cigarette in Derek’s hand.

“You smoke  _ weed _ .” An amused smile tugs at the corner of Stiles’ mouth.

Derek looks at the joint in his hand. “Yeah,” he says. “I do sometimes.”

There’s no use for him to lie about it. Sometimes when the stress gets a little too much he likes to take the edge off. Besides, it isn’t like he’s the only one who participates in recreational drug use. No one’s addicted, he won’t stand for that in his inner circle, but every now and again someone smokes a bowl or takes some ecstasy at Eclipse.

“Boyd doesn’t approve?” 

Derek snorts. “Boyd doesn’t give a damn, but if he was looking for me that means something else has gone wrong.”

“Aren’t gangsters supposed to be all about cocaine?” Stiles asks.

“I’m willing to bet you’ve said  _ ‘say hello to my little friend’ _ at least once before a hit,” Derek says. 

Stiles taps the side of his nose. “You’ll never know.”

In an unexpected move Derek holds out the joint to Stiles. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d be coming back to the estate,” Derek admits as he offers the joint. 

Stiles hesitates for a moment before standing up to take it. The smoke burns his lungs, but it’s a feeling that he’s missed. 

“I just needed some time alone,” Stiles says on an exhale.

After a couple of drags Stiles hands the joint back to Derek to finish.

Stiles sits back on the bench and looks up at the house – mansion – that’s looming over them. Derek turns and looks over his shoulder to look at the building as well.

“It sure is something, isn’t it?” Derek asks. Despite all the bad memories associated with it, the estate has been his home his whole life and he loves it. 

“Yeah,” Stiles nods. “When was it built?”

“Originally it was just the east wing,” Derek explains. He moves over to sit on the bench next to Stiles so he can see the house without straining his neck. “It got built in the twenties, some wealthy politician or whatever who wanted to show off. In the fifties the estate changed hands, this guy, a head of a studio in LA, brought it. He expanded it to match the rest of the building.” Derek points at the house where the two wings meet. “You can’t tell from the front, but from back here you can see how it doesn’t match up perfectly. He renovated most of the inside as well.”

Derek and Stiles are sitting side by side, barely an inch between them. If either of them move they’ll be pressed together. This fact doesn’t escape the attention of either of them.

“When did your family buy it?”

“Mr Hollywood, that’s what my mom nicknamed him, he killed his wife and then himself in the basement.”

“Is that why we’re not allowed in the basement?” Stiles asks. “You’re superstitious?”

“No,” Derek says simply before continuing. “That was in the early sixties. Our family was already pretty big and successful by then. They brought the house, mainly because nobody else would, and because it was big enough to house everyone and our operations.”

“The Hale’s started as bootleggers, right?” Stiles knows a bit about the Hale’s past, most of it’s public knowledge, but he likes hearing Derek talk about it.

Derek nods. “There was some criminal activity before then, but yeah, the Hale’s broke into organized crime thanks to prohibition. While all this,” Derek waves his hand, indicating the house. “Was being built, my great grandfather was across town smuggling booze and making moonshine. He was a carpenter by trade and helped fit out a lot of the speakeasies.”

“He’d be pretty proud of how far the family’s come,” Stiles says. “The Hale’s are still here, basically running the town, still outsmarting the cops.”

Derek has to laugh at that. He doesn’t admit it out loud, but he often wonders if his family – mainly his parents – would be proud of how he’s handling things. He was never supposed to take over control; Laura had been the one groomed for the role. Then Laura had been killed, and after everything that had happened with Peter, the responsibility is on his shoulders whether he likes it or not.

Derek turns his head to look at Stiles. The younger man is still looking up at the house so Derek studies his profile. Stiles’ mouth hangs open slightly, his plump lower lip looks so inviting. Derek wants to  _ bite  _ it. Derek licks his lips and drags his eyes away from Stiles’ mouth. Although that really doesn’t help much. From Stiles’ mouth Derek’s gaze trails over Stiles’ cheek to the spattering of moles that are dotted down his neck. Stiles is dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, the pale column of Stiles throat on display. Derek wants to bite that too. Derek blames the drugs in his system.

The younger man is incredibly good looking. From his honey coloured eyes, to his mouth that twisted up into devilish grins when he’s teasing someone. Derek is hopelessly enraptured by all of it. Sometimes, late at night, as he lay in bed desperately trying to sleep, he can’t help but think about how Stiles is only twenty feet away across the hall.

Derek blinks and his eyes drop down further to Stiles’ hands sitting on his thighs. 

Thirty two people. Derek reminds himself of that. Stiles has killed thirty two people. Even growing up surrounded by hardened criminals Derek knows that’s a large number. It’s more than Derek had expected. There’s only 18 kills officially attributed to Red, and Derek knew there would be more the police didn’t know about, but he hadn’t thought there’d be that many. 

Of course Derek had known how dangerous Stiles was before bringing him on board. However seeing the aftermath of Harris, Jennifer and Matt with his own eyes, and knowing how many times Stiles has done this before is another thing entirely.  

The most terrifying part of it all though is that none of it changes the fact that Derek still wants Stiles. 

Stiles notices Derek staring and turns his head. Derek glances up to meet his gaze.

“What?” Stiles asks, lips – those  _ fucking  _ lips – curving up into a smile.

Derek shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says. “Nothing.”

“Dude, how much weed did you smoke?” Stiles is still smiling and Derek’s resisting the urge to close those last few inches between them and kiss him.

Derek chooses to look away from Stiles and stays silent. Stiles isn’t fazed by the lack of reply. The two men sit side by side, looking up at the Hale mansion. 

After a few minutes Derek speaks up. “Who was he?” He asks, turning to look at Stiles again. “The man you killed in self defense?” 

Stiles keeps his eyes fixed on the mansion. “He was a police officer,” he says. “He was dirty and I was the only one who knew enough to turn him in.” He pauses and finally turns to look at Derek. “It was either me or him.” He goes quiet and Derek knows that’s all the information Stiles is going to give. 

Derek nods slowly, then clears his throat. “I should get back to my office,” he says, standing up. “Allison will be back soon and I’ll need to talk to her.”

“Okay.”

Stiles stays seated while Derek walks away, thoroughly confused about the older man’s behaviour. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im on [tumblr](http://fighthaus.tumblr.com/) if you want to talk to me over there


	10. A Favour For Old Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry that i disappeared for so long. but my laptop is working again and i promise ill start posting chapters regularly again.

Derek likes the garage. The concrete floors and high ceilings make every little noise echo, there is no way anyone can sneak up on you in there. You can hear people coming before they get to the structure. So he isn’t surprised when Scott’s voice rings out from behind him.

“Where are we going for dinner?” Scott asks. What he means is  _ ‘Who are we meeting?’ _

“Pinnacle,” Derek says.

Scott stops in his tracks a few feet from where Derek is leaning against a car. “Are you serious?” he asks. “Deucalion?”

“He asked us to dinner. Summoned us really,” Derek explains. He opens the driver's’ side door and climbs in behind the wheel. When Deucalion – head of the Alpha’s – invites you to dinner, you don’t say no.

Scott sighs and walks around the car to hop in the passenger seat. “Why does the demon wolf want to see us?”

Derek laughs. “Don’t call him that where other people can hear you,” he warns. “And he didn’t say, but I think it might have something to do with Ennis.”

“Christ,” Scott takes a deep breath. “Okay, let’s go.”

Pinnacle is in the heart of Alpha territory. It’s one of the best restaurants in the city; the shining jewel in Deucalion’s crown.

The Alpha’s aren’t as old as the Hale or Argent families, and they don’t have the numbers that the Calavera’s do. But the Alpha’s are ruthless and are as much of a threat as any of the families. Derek had agreed to the meeting in part because Deucalion and Talia had been close, and Derek has put a lot of effort into repairing the truce that his uncle had broken.

Deucalion is already seated and eating when Derek and Scott arrive. He is flanked by two men – twin brothers, dressed in dark suits – standing behind him. A single chair is sitting opposite Deucalion.

Derek feels like commandeering a chair from a nearby table and getting Scott to sit as well. Derek doesn’t view Scott as subordinate, not in the same way that Deucalion obviously views the twins. However Deucalion had set the place at the table, and this is not the time or place for an act of defiance. They need this meeting to go well. So Derek sits and Scott stands at his right hand.

“Derek, it’s been far too long,” Deucalion says with a smile. He extends a hand across the table to Derek.

Deucalion isn’t wearing his customary black tinted glasses, so the milky white of his blind eyes is on display. Derek has heard rumours that Deucalion deliberately leaves his glasses off during meetings to throw people and keep them off their game. They’re usually too focused on his disability and underestimate how dangerous he is.

Derek is determined not to let Deucalion get the upper hand.

Derek clasps Deucalion’s hand with both of his. “It’s good to see you again, Duke.” It’s risky using the nickname, but it’s the name Talia had used for Deucalion. Derek’s hoping to keep the truce the Hale’s and the Alpha’s have for as long as possible.

Deucalion laughs at the nickname. “I’m just sad this reunion has to come under such conditions. Unfortunately we have a problem.”

“Ennis?” Derek asks.

Deucalion wipes his mouth with a cloth napkin. “He has gone completely rogue. I have no control over him.”

“If you have no control then what do you expect me to do? Ennis has never trusted us.” A waiter pours Derek a glass of wine. Derek ignores it.

“Rumours are that someone in your camp was behind the murder of that pesky reporter. And I heard about how your little Jennifer Blake problem was handled,” Deucalion says. “Maybe whoever you have on payroll wouldn’t mind paying Ennis a little visit.”

“You don’t have any qualms about killing a member of your own family?” Derek asks.

“No.”

Neither of the brothers react to what Deucalion says. It isn’t much of a surprise to Derek either. Ennis won’t be the first one of the Alpha’s to be killed on Deucalion’s orders, nor will he be the last.

Derek looks at Scott who nods. “I think we have the perfect person for the job,” Derek says.

*

Stiles is just drifting off to sleep when there’s a sharp knock on his bedroom door. He thinks about ignoring the noise, but then whoever’s on the other side starts knocking again.

“Alright!” Stiles shouts. He throws back the covers and stands up. He doesn’t bother putting clothes on even though he’s only dressed in boxer shorts.

Stiles isn’t happy to see Derek and Scott, although he isn’t surprised either. “Of course,” Stiles says. “The one night I try to sleep early, and you two show up.”

“Put some clothes on,” Derek says. “We need to talk.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and walks back into his room. In a petty display of defiance, he pulls on a hoodie, but doesn’t put on pants.

Derek leads the way from Stiles’ room to his office in silence. When the office door is locked behind them Derek turns to Stiles.

“We have a problem,” Derek tells him.

“A problem that couldn’t wait ‘til morning,” Stiles nods. “This’ll be fun.” It’s cold in Derek’s office. He’s beginning to regret his lack of pants. 

“We had dinner with Deucalion tonight,” Derek says. “Ennis has gone off the deep end and is looking to get revenge for Kali by taking out everyone he can get his hands on. Right now he’s just going after members of the Calavera’s, but that may change.”

“Fuck.” Stiles runs a hand through his hair. “In my defence I warned the Cavalera’s that this could happen. I told them if they wanted Kali they should take Ennis out too. But they wouldn’t budge, not even when I offered half price for Ennis.”

“You  _ offered _ a lower price?” Scott asks.

“I saw this coming,” Stiles says. “I knew Ennis would become a problem for everyone. He needed to be taken out months ago, Deucalion should have done something earlier. But I still don’t understand what this has to do with us.”

“Deucalion heard about Matt and Jennifer,” Derek says. “He knows I have someone on the books who would be good for the job. I could tell him to do it himself, but this is also about maintaining truces. We need the Alpha’s on our side in case of war. Deucalion didn’t only give his blessing, he  _ requested  _ that we take care of it.”

“Okay,” Stiles says. “Does anyone even know where Ennis is? If he’s detached from the Alpha’s completely he could be anywhere.”

“Deucalion has some idea of where he could be holed up,” Derek tells him. “I think this is the kind of thing you have Lydia around for, tracking people. Danny can also help, if Ennis has an online presence he’ll be able to find it.”

“We need to be careful,” Stiles says. “We need to take him by surprise. He’s not stupid, he has to know people are going to be coming after him.” Stiles walks over to Derek’s desk and sits on the edge of it. “I’ve seen Ennis’ work. If he’s spiralling out of control he’s going to be even more dangerous.”

Derek nods in agreement. “This needs to be done soon, but we do need to be careful and plan it well.”

“We’ve got files on Ennis from when we were planning the hit on Kali,” Stiles says. “There could be something in there. I’ll go get Lydia and we can start coming up with a plan.”

*

They locate Ennis three days later, holed up in a crappy apartment downtown. The apartment had belonged to one of Ennis’ drug smuggling contacts.

The police found the body of Aaron Tucker near the railway tracks. His face was smashed in beyond recognition, and someone had burned off his fingerprints, making identification near impossible. His body is still lying unclaimed and unidentified in the morgue when Stiles’ puts his and Lydia’s plan into motion. 

Tucker’s apartment is smack in the middle of Alpha territory; sending in someone Ennis could recognise as Hale is too much of a risk. So Lydia is the one who’s tasked with staking out the apartment building. She isn’t known to Ennis, and she’s good at keeping a low profile.

Lydia spots Ennis entering the apartment building in the late afternoon. She dials Stiles’ number from memory.

Stiles answers without a word. It’s not something that surprises her, but still, Lydia pouts in annoyance. This is a habit Lydia hopes doesn’t last long.

“He’s here,” Lydia says into the phone, then hangs up before Stiles can answer. Two can play at this game.

It’s a half hour drive from the Hale Estate to the apartment building Ennis is holed up in. Stiles manages to make it in twenty minutes.

Lydia doesn’t startle when Stiles raps on the car window sharply with his knuckles.

“You know what floor he’s on?” Stiles asks as Lydia winds down the window.

Lydia shakes her head then tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t want to follow him in and risk spooking him.”

Stiles makes a small noise of understanding. He rests his hand against the roof of the car and drums his fingers against the cool metal. He’s bending down slightly so he can see Lydia, and his unzipped jacket has fallen open. From this angle Lydia can see the handgun in a holster tucked snugly against his ribs.

“You coming up?” Stiles asks.

Lydia declines the offer with another shake of her head. “This is a one person job,” Lydia says. “Too many cooks and all of that.”

“You never want to commit murder with me anymore,” Stiles complains. His fake pout only lasts a moment before he’s grinning.

“I promise,” Lydia starts, “that next time I’ll be there to watch you shoot a guy’s brains out.”

“I bet you say that to all the boys.”

Lydia looks at her nails. “Don’t you have a crime to commit?”

Stiles slaps the tops of the car and stands up straight. “I’ll be back soon,” he tells Lydia.

“Don’t get yourself shot,” Lydia replies. Her tone is sarcastic and flippant, but they both know she means what she says.

Stiles simply gives a nod, then jogs across the road to the apartment building.

A conversation with Mrs Lynch on the first floor, and a lie about being Aaron’s cousin, gains Stiles confirmation of which apartment belonged to the drug dealer.

The third floor apartment isn’t guarded, which isn’t too surprising. Ennis would be too paranoid by now to trust anyone but himself.

Stiles knocks on the door. He waits several beats then Ennis’ voice comes from inside the apartment.

“Who’s there?!”

“Pizza!” Stiles answers cheerfully. He untucks the gun from its holster.

“I didn’t order anything! Go away!” There’s a sound of shuffling behind the door.

“You sure?” Stiles asks. “It’s meat lovers!” He eyes the door knob and lock. It’s the same model that’s on every other door in the apartment building. Ennis hasn’t had time to upgrade security. “Extra sausage!”

“Go away!” Ennis shouts again. His voice is closer now, obviously only a few feet from the door.

A solid kick sees the cheap wood of the door splintering and the lock snapping away from the door jamb. Stiles doesn’t have time for quiet and clean right now. This has to be done now or he could lose his chance.

Ennis is holding a gun in his hand, but isn’t truly prepared for an intrusion. The handgun is pointed to the floor, and he barely raises it before Stiles is firing his own gun.

The first shot misses – Ennis is further to the left than Stiles had anticipated – but an adjustment doesn’t take long. It gives Ennis enough time to fire off a shot, but his bullet misses Stiles’ head by about half a foot. Ennis has always been better at hand to hand combat than long distance weapons. Which is why Stiles can’t give the older man a chance to get close. A second bullet, then a third, both hit Ennis in the chest.

Neither of the men say a word throughout the whole encounter. Ennis falls to the ground, letting out a watery gasp as he chokes on his own blood, but no words are said.

Stiles puts a final bullet through Ennis’ head before quickly leaving the apartment. He’s well aware the neighbours would have called the cops by now.

Out on the street his car is where he left it, parked behind Lydia’s. He makes brief eye contact with the redhead as he heads to the car. Lydia pulls away from the curb as Stiles starts his own car. The engine of the European car thrums under him and Stiles presses his foot down on the accelerator.

This time he makes the drive back to the Hale Estate in fifteen minutes.

*

Derek is almost expecting to be summoned to another dinner with Deucalion. Instead however Derek receives a simple letter. The letter is handwritten in a neat print, and Derek wonders if one of the twins wrote down Deucalion’s message. The note thanks him for taking care of Ennis, and includes a reminder that Deucalion has been a friend to the Hales longer than Derek has been alive.

He can’t put his finger on why, but much like everything involving Deucalion and The Alpha’s the note leaves Derek feeling uneasy. He feels as though he somehow just got played, and is now waiting for the second shoe to drop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual you can find me over on tumblr at fighthaus.tumblr.com 
> 
> umm to make up for my absence i will probably be posting a few chapters over the next couple of days (i'll also be happy to take requests for short fics/drabbles if you want to drop them in my ask on tumblr)


	11. The Past Haunts Us

With the weather getting warmer it isn’t long before people start to use the pool more regularly. Jackson, Allison and Boyd all use it throughout autumn and winter to swim laps, so it’s always clean and in good condition, but it’s too cold for most of the others to use.

Stiles is hesitant to join the others by the pool in their down time. Swimming isn’t something he really enjoys. It’s Lydia who convinces him to sit by the pool with her; she claims she needs someone to put sunscreen lotion on her back, and won’t take no for an answer.

Cora and Malia are already in the water when Lydia and Stiles get to the pool. The two women are racing each other, moving gracefully through the water with powerful kicks and strokes. Stiles and Lydia settle themselves down beside the pool in time to see Cora narrowly win the race.

Cora laughs triumphantly and splashes water at her cousin. Malia retaliates by diving under the water and grabbing hold of Cora’s legs, pulling her under as well. When the women resurface they are coughing and breathing hard, but both are smiling and laughing.

They look like any two normal young woman having fun on their afternoon off. For anyone who doesn’t know them it would be hard to believe how they had spent the previous night.To believe that Cora had been overseeing the sale of thousands of dollars’ worth of drugs, or that Malia had stolen a car worth more than most people will ever see in their bank account.

Lydia stretches out on one of the pool chairs to soak up some sun. Stiles sits down on the edge of the pool, dangling his feet in the cool water. He pulls his t-shirt off over his head and puts it down beside him.

In the pool Malia turns around to face Stiles, her mouth wide open in a smile. He sees the moment she notices the scars. Her smile drops and her brow furrows, although she does her best to hide it. Not many people have seen the scars, but he would never have taken off his shirt if he couldn’t handle the looks he gets.

Stiles leans back and points to a scar on his right side. “Bullet,” he says. “There’s another one from a bullet in my shoulder,” Stiles twists so both Malia and Cora can see his shoulder. “Most of the others are from knives.”

Malia doesn’t say anything. Instead she wades into the shallow part of the pool until her midriff is above water. She points at a scar just below her bellybutton. “I got stabbed.” Malia doesn’t elaborate on what had happened, but Stiles doesn’t expect her to.

“So did I,” Cora says. She turned around so her back is to Stiles, then moves her wet hair away to expose a scar on her left shoulder. “Deal gone bad,” is the only explanation Stiles gets.

“Occupational hazard,” Malia says with a shrug. Then she dives back under the water, resurfacing near Cora again.

Stiles looks down at his arm. There’s a scar on his forearm; he had gotten it during a fight with a bodyguard of one of his targets. Malia’s right, injuries and scars are something that come along with the job. He barely thinks about the scars anymore. He stopped counting a long time ago. He stopped using vitamin E to try and reduce the scarring, and he stopped trying to hide them. Stiles has a lot more scars than most people, and to him the show what he has been through. Not all of them had been gained while working as a gun for hire. He wouldn’t say he’s proud of them, but he’s not ashamed.

It isn’t long before Danny and Jackson come down to the pool, both of them are dressed for swimming. The two of them notice the scars on Stiles’ back, but even Jackson has the sensitivity not to say anything about them.

The two men jump into the pool at the same time, causing a big enough splash that a little water ends up on Lydia. She sits up and glares at the laughing men over the top of her sunglasses. Then she turns her attention to Stiles who’s looking at her and laughing as well. Stiles quickly looks back to the pool, where Jackson is trying to pull Danny under the water.

Stiles jumps when he feels something cold and wet on his shoulder.

“Calm down,” Lydia laughs. “I’m just putting sunscreen on you.” She massages the lotion into Stiles’ shoulder and Stiles bites back a grin. When they’d first met Stiles would have killed to have Lydia’s hands on him. For a long time he thought he was in love with her, but now he knows that had been infatuation. Now, after everything they have been through together, he knows the love he has for her isn’t romantic, but it is genuine. He will do anything to protect her – will and has killed for her – he can’t imagine being without her.

Lydia finishes applying the sunscreen and moves over to sit on the edge of the pool next to Stiles. “Your turn to do me,” she says, handing the bottle of lotion to him.

“I can do that for you,” Jackson offers. He had swum over to the edge of the pool and is treading water in front of Lydia.

Cora had swum over to them as well. She hoists herself up and sits on the edge of the pool next to Lydia. She leans across Lydia and takes the bottle from Stiles.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “This reminds me of high school,” he says.

“This is better than high school.” Lydia gives Stiles a small knowing smile and pulls her hair up into a bun so Cora can start putting sunscreen on her shoulders.

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees. “It is.”

Jackson is backing away from the edge of the pool when something grabs his attention. He looks past Stiles, Lydia and Cora to where Scott is approaching.

“Fuck off McCall!” Jackson shouts. “I spent all morning locked in the office with you and Derek! I’m not going back yet!”

Everyone laughs at Jackson’s outburst, although the man himself doesn’t seem very amused. Jackson has his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. Scott stands near the pool chairs dressed in a blue shirt and black slacks, he shakes his head at Jackson.

“You’re acting like they’re going to haul you off to jail,” Danny says.

“You’re not the one who spent hours pouring over legal documents,” Jackson points an accusing finger at Danny.

“You’re a _lawyer_ ,” Danny points out. “Spending hours pouring over legal documents is part of your job description.”

“Calm down Whittemore,” Scott says. “We’ve finished with the paperwork. It’s actually Cora that Derek wants to see”

Cora groans loudly and slips back into the water; disappearing under the surface for a moment. “What does my brother want?” She asks when she comes back up for air.  

“It’s about the will.”

Cora’s demeanour changes in an instant. She squares her shoulders and nods at Scott. “I’m coming,” she says.

Scott picks up a towel and holds it out to Cora as she pulls herself up onto the edge of the pool. Neither of them say anything else. Cora simply accepts the towel from Scott, and follows him up from the pool.

It feels like all of the joy has been sucked from the air. Stiles isn’t even sure what’s happening, but he still feels it weighing on his shoulders. He can see the uncertainty in the expressions of the others, and a similar feeling of apprehension curls in his gut.

Stiles wants to ask so badly. He looks at Lydia who gives him a small shrug, meaning she doesn’t know what’s happening either. From the looks on Malia, Jackson, and Danny’s faces it’s apparent they’re all in the know. Stiles wants to ask whose will it is. He wants to know why it’s made everyone look so uncomfortable. However he’s pretty certain it isn’t the time or the place to ask.

Stiles manages to quell his curiosity by excusing himself as well. Claiming that he’s had enough sun, Stiles pulls his shirt back on and makes his way back up to the house on his own.

*

It’s an eerie sensation, being alone in such a large house. Even in the middle of the day with warm sunlight streaming in through all the windows, coating the carpet and paintings on the walls in a soft glow. Even with the knowledge there _are_ other people in the building, the oppressiveness of the house is overwhelming.

Stiles tries to banish the horror film setups from his mind as he makes his way through the back of the house. It’s ridiculous. Given his kill count Stiles is the scariest thing in this building. Still though, it’s hard to completely shake the thoughts of Pennywise or Leather Face making a sudden appearance from one of the many doorways.

Thankfully Stiles makes it to the kitchen unharmed, but he does stop just inside. Something’s out of place and it grabs his attention.

It takes a moment for him to pinpoint the discrepancy.

The door leading down to the basement is ajar. Stiles can’t recall a time he’d seen the door open. He only knows it leads to the basement because he had asked Scott about it.

Curiosity has Stiles approaching the door. The basement is still a mystery to Stiles; so far he has obeyed Derek’s rules and has yet to enter the attic or the basement. The attic, as far as Stiles can tell, is off limits because it’s unsafe. Derek and Scott talked openly about needing to replace insulation and ensure nothing was leaking. The basement however, that was never mentioned. At least never in front of Stiles.

Stiles edges the door open a little more with his foot. Through the door a naked bulb illuminates a set of stairs heading down.

Taking quick stock of his surroundings Stiles finds himself to still be alone. He begins to descend the stairs before he can talk himself out of the decision.

He’s not really sure what hes expecting to find. He already knows where the weapons are kept on the premises, as well as all the drugs. _Torture chamber_ is a thought that briefly crosses his mind, but he knows of locations far away from the Estate that are used for purposes like that.

At the bottom of the stairs the room is smaller than he expected. In his mind he had pictured a sprawling system of dark, dank rooms underneath the house. In reality the basement is roughly the same size as the kitchen, and is rather well lit with several light fixtures across the low roof. Nothing immediately stands out to Stiles. Nothing sinister or dangerous looking, and certainly nothing that warrants making the basement off limits. Furniture - tables and chairs and at least one couch - are stacked together and covered in white sheets and plastic. The rest of the space is mostly taken up by stacks of document boxes.

Moving closer Stiles can see that each box is labelled with a month and a year. He can’t see all of the stacks without disturbing some, but from what he can see the boxes date back at least a decade. On the floor several boxes are dust free, recently disturbed.

Stiles kneels down and opens a box labelled _“March 2011”_. Inside is paperwork, the top sheet is an electricity bill. Stiles flicks through more and the rest are the same, bills for various properties that the Hale’s own. Stiles frowns to himself. This is what Derek is hiding? Bills?

Opening a second box - labelled “ _October 2009_ ” - Stiles expects much the same, and finds more bills. However this time most of the bills have annotations written in the margins. Stiles doesn’t recognise the handwriting. The notes are memos the author wrote to themselves, reminders to pay certain things on different dates, phone numbers, shopping lists. The whole thing is so painfully domestic and Stiles doesn’t understand.

From what he can tell there’s nothing incriminating. None of the bills list properties that aren’t legally owned and above board. There’s nothing in any of the papers that police could use against the family if they raided the house.

Halfway down the second box Stiles finds a crumpled post-it note. On the post-it is a message in the same handwriting that adorns the bills.

 

_Derek -_

_I’m going to Eclipse early to get some work done. Meet me there and we can get lunch?_

  _ _< 3 Laura__

 

That’s when Stiles realises what this is. The boxes aren’t just a detailed record of finances. They’re leftover reminders of Laura, probably their parents as well. Neither Derek nor Cora come across as the overly sentimental type, but Stiles thinks that he can understand wanting to keep physical reminders.

He looks around the room again, at the furniture that is perfectly covered and protected and his heart feels heavy. When his father died Stiles had to give everything away. It was mostly out of necessity. Stiles had to leave town, he couldn’t lug all of his parents things with him. He still has a few small things that have survived the years and countless moves, but not as much as he would like.

Stiles understands now. Derek and Cora have kept the business going out of necessity. They’ve grown the family and adapted to their new circumstances. They don’t talk much about the tragedies that have befallen them. They keep their grief and the reminders of it hidden away from prying eyes.

Carefully Stiles puts everything back in the boxes and places the lids back on, before standing back up. Making his way back up the stairs he pauses and listens for noises in the kitchen. He makes sure he’s alone before edging the door open and exiting the basement. He leaves the door ajar just as it was.

Stiles isn’t used to feeling guilt over snooping. His job often involves delving into the personal lives of targets, as well as those who hire him. He likes to know what kind of people he’s dealing with. The difference here is that he _knows_ the Hales. He _cares_. And he’s not sure how to deal with that realisation. He makes his way over to the fridge and gets bottle of water. His curiosity has been sated, and he decides he won’t be mentioning his little expedition to anyone.

**Author's Note:**

> So that was the first chapter! Being the very beginning it was just mainly introductions and setting up, but things will start moving soon!
> 
> I do have the whole fic written, I just need to finish editing. I'm aiming to have a new chapter up each week, unless life gets in the way. 
> 
> I'm on tumblr at [fighthaus](http://fighthaus.tumblr.com/) so you can come talk to me over there


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